Little Lost Princess
by MissFaery
Summary: Sequel to "Neverland Treasure". Peter Pan always gets what he wants and now he finally has Holly. Alone and outnumbered, Holly's only goal is to survive and learn as she goes. But Peter isn't patient, and the Lost Boys aren't gentle. Even her brother, John, isn't the same loving sibling she remembers. As Pan breaks her spirit, Holly wonders if she can endure.
1. Chapter 1

It used to be hard to stay away. And on days like today, it still was.

I loved the beach. I loved the way the water crawled up shore and smoothed the sand before it pulled out again. I loved the way the sea shells grabbed the sun's rays just right; how they seemed to shine. And I loved the way the crisp sea air settled salty-sweet on my tongue and filled my lungs. It was liberating; nothing like the confines of the jungle.

But it wasn't safe.

So I stayed just inside the tree line like I was supposed to and kept walking.

The earth was cool on my bare feet as I weaved my way through the trees. Low shrubs brushed against my legs, but thankfully they held no thorns. The smell of salt water mingled with dank earth in the warm summer air, and it makes me smile as the humidity stuck to my skin. Summer was always my favorite time of year. Bird calls could be heard in the thick canopies above, but when I craned my neck up to see them, they were nowhere to be found.

Sunlight cut down through the canopy, casting spotlights on the forest floor. I walked through them without a second thought, the bits of sunlight just as welcome as the pools of shade in between.

A girl could breathe out here.

But I wasn't out and about to breathe. I needed to find _him._

He had left his morning without even so much as a goodbye, and despite how relaxed I felt in the moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had done something wrong. And I wanted to make it right.

So when the boys had returned with a wild boar and instructed that someone go find him so they could eat, my hand had shot up first.

"Go on then!" one of them had barked, and I had scurried away before anyone could change their mind.

I couldn't wait for someone else to find him. It would drive me mad.

But as the minutes began to drag on, I wondered if I was going to be able to find him at all. He had hiding spots everywhere, and I would be fooling myself if I thought I knew them all. And if he didn't want to be found, well…

I heaved a sigh and closed my eyes, my feet coming to a stop as I leaned against a tree to try and calm my nerves.

 _I_ will _find him,_ I thought to myself. _And when I do, everything will be_ fine.

So I kept going, determined to find him before it got too late. The sun was still high in the sky and wouldn't fall for a few hours yet, but if I wasn't careful, darkness would be upon me before I knew it, and I didn't want to be out in the forest when it was dark. Not alone, and definitely not so far from camp.

The farther I walked without any sign of him though, the more discouraged I became, and I wondered if I would have to make the walk back to camp without him and face the boys alone. The thought made me cringe as my stomach dropped. The boys could be pleasant when they wanted to be, especially the younger ones, but the older boys were a different story entirely. The only time they were ever polite was when _he_ was with me. And even _that_ wasn't enough sometimes.

Just as the anxiety of returning to camp alone threatened to overtake me, I heard it.

His voice.

My heart thundered in my chest as I picked up my pace. He wasn't far off, and with each step that I took, it brought him closer. The louder his voice became, the faster my feet moved, flying over soft earth as I followed the curve of the trees and the water, until his voice no longer drifted on the breeze and he was right in front of me.

I skidded to a stop at the tree line, unable to go any further. He stood on the sand of the beach, just out of reach. And he wasn't alone.

But it certainly didn't stop me from wanting to run to him anyway.

They didn't turn to look at me, their conversation never missing a beat as they stared out at the vast ocean, but my heart was pounding so hard in my ears that I couldn't hear them. I didn't see what they were motioning to, their movements tense. All I saw was _him._ Tall and lean. Strong and terrifying. Warm and gentle when no one else was looking, but cold and sarcastic whenever they were.

I shouldn't interrupt. I shouldn't barge in on their business, but I hadn't seen him since last night, hadn't touched him.

"Peter." His name slid off my tongue, and when he turned to face me, I felt my heart flutter.

"Well hello there, Sweetheart," he greeted me with a grin, his shoulders relaxing as he seemed to take me in. His emerald eyes shone bright, and I knew that he was in one of his better moods. There was no malice, no anger. All was well for now. "I didn't even hear you sneak up on us," he said with a chuckle, and I blushed.

The boy he had been standing with looked at me for a moment before looking away, his face unreadable. He leaned against a long walking stick, his other hand resting on a belt of knives. His dark hair, which normally hung over his eyes, was pulled away from his face with a piece of tattered ribbon. His name was Benj, and he was one of Peter's favorites.

"Come here, Sweetheart," Peter said, his smile growing wide as he held out a hand for me. "I've missed you." He looked at me expectantly and while my feet itched to go to him, my chest tightened. I wasn't allowed to leave the tree line. I wasn't allowed to step foot on the beach. I had failed this same test once before, and Peter had been furious with me for days. I didn't want to disappoint him again.

Benj's eyes darted to mine for a moment, and I wondered if he knew if this was a test or not. If he did, he certainly didn't show it, and he looked away again before he gave the answer away with his eyes.

As my heart began to race, I took a shaky breath and shook my head, my hands grasping desperately at the edges of my worn shirt.

Peter's eyes flashed dangerously as I ducked my head, and I wondered if I had failed his test by doing exactly what he had taught me to do the first time around. It wasn't uncommon for Peter to change the rules without telling anybody.

"Come here, Sweetheart," Peter said again, this time with a bite in his tone.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I can't," I protested as panic gripped my throat. "I'm not supposed to leave the tree line. I'm not supposed to go onto the beach. That's what you said!"

Understanding instantly dawned on Peter's face, and I watched as the anger vanished from his eyes. He chuckled as he dropped his hand and smiled at me. "Of course," he said as if he had genuinely forgotten. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart." He climbed up the slant of the beach and came to a stop in front of me, leaning against the tree with a lopsided grin that made my heart skip a beat. My breath hitched when he reached up and brushed my cheek, his emerald eyes boring into my hazel ones. "Such a good little Lost Girl, aren't you?" he whispered, and I felt myself melt at his praise.

I nodded, a breathy, "Yes, Peter." escaping my lips as I took a step closer to him. His eyes sparkled as I did so, his gaze turning hungry as he peered down at me.

His fingers traced my jaw and over the curve of my neck before sliding down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake as I tried to ease my racing heart. Tentatively, I reached up with sweaty palms and traced the muscles of his stomach through his shirt. It felt so good to touch him. The relief was enough to make me want to cry.

Benj's voice broke through my clouded mind. "Peter. They've changed course again."

And in that instant, Peter's entire being seemed to shift dangerously. His muscles tensed and he clenched his jaw so tight that I heard his teeth grind together. A dark shadow passed over his eyes and his hair, turning him into the demon that still haunted my dreams.

Before Benj's interruption, Peter's hand had come to rest on my hip, but now his fingers dug painfully into my skin. There was no doubt in my mind that there would be bruises.

Peter craned his neck to look over his shoulder. Benj shifted uncomfortably, turning his gaze out to the ocean to avoid setting off Peter.

I pushed myself up onto my toes and looked over Peter's shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of what Benj was talking about. I squinted, the high summer sun reflecting painfully off the ocean waves and the sand, but out on the horizon, almost too small to see, was a ship.

My chest tightened painfully, and my fingers curled painfully into Peter's shirt. I knew that ship. It was the only ship with a crew brave enough to come so close to the island.

Peter always said they were foolish, not brave.

"Peter," I said, my voice shaking, "why—"

"Quiet," he hissed, pushing me farther behind the tree line. My mouth snapped shut at Peter's instruction and I quickly retreated backwards back into the trees. Peter followed shortly behind me, all while instructing Benj to follow.

"What do you think they're doing?" Benj asked, sounding almost bored, as if a lingering ship wasn't a threat.

"Scanning the shores probably" Peter stated, the edge in his voice gone now that we were out of sight. Then Peter turned to me. "Probably trying to get a peak at my treasure."

My heart still hammered hard in my chest, but at Peter's words, a heavy fear settled in my bones. That's why Peter had pushed me back into the trees. He didn't want _him_ to catch a glimpse of me.

I didn't think that I would ever see that ship again, and now it was just off the horizon, lurking.

There was a time when I used to think that I would be happy the day that ship showed up off the shores of Neverland, but now, I was terrified.

 _"He'll come for you," she had said to me all those months ago._

 _"Why would he?" I had spit at her with tears streaming down my face. "He's the one who let me go in the first place!"_

 _"He'll come for you," she repeated, soft yet confident._

 _"How do you know?" I had asked._

 _"Because he came for me."_

But he had been too late then. And he was too late now.

"What do _you_ think, Sweetheart?"

Peter's words brought me out of my thoughts, and I startled. Ignoring the strange looks I got from Peter and Benj, I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers, ignoring the fact that my hands were shaking.

Peter took a step closer and weaved his fingers with mine before pulling me close. "I said—" he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, "—I think I should take a few of the boys and go rough up Hook and his crew a bit. Just a warning really, for getting too close to the island. What do you think?"

 _No!_ The word jumped up my throat so fast that I had to bite my tongue to keep it from flying out. I'm not sure why my stomach still dropped when Peter threatened to go after Hook and his men. They were nothing but trouble for us.

But I still remembered that day all those months ago; the last time I had stepped foot on the Jolly Roger.

Peter had given his word that day that he would leave Hook and his crew alone if Hook handed me over to him. He had promised that no more harm would come to Hook or his crew.

And Hook had made his choice.

I still remembered how I felt in that moment, and sometimes, when I least expected it, it returned in full force and threatened to drown me.

But Peter had saved me. I hadn't seen it then, but I did now. Hook never loved me, but he let me believe he did, and when he broke my heart that night, Peter had immediately started picking up the pieces.

Just like he said he would. Peter always kept his word.

And if he broke his word now, he'd be no better than Hook.

I squeezed his hands tightly as I worked up the courage to look him in the eyes. Although he was in one of his better moods, Peter was volatile. His mood could change as quickly as the ocean's tide, and he was just as dangerous.

He grinned down at me, malice dancing in his eyes at the thought of going after Hook and his men, and I had to swallow the fear that rose in my throat.

Slowly, I shook my head. "Leave them be," I said, trying not to make it sound like a plea. Then, I pressed myself against him and weaved my arms around his waist. "They're no threat to you. Stay here. With me," I added, trying to appeal to Peter's possessive side.

For a quick moment, I wasn't sure my words were going to work on Peter, but as the malice began to be replaced by a mischievous sparkle that I knew well enough, I began to relax.

Peter relaxed too, his features softening considerably as he gazed down at me with bright eyes. When we stood like this, it was almost like nothing else existed. It almost felt like we were the only two on the entire island, and the world's that lay just beyond the horizon really didn't exist at all.

When Peter cupped my face in his warm, calloused hands, my entire body tingled. The space between us felt charged like the air does right before storm.

And then he was kissing me. Hard. His lips were bruising but in the best way.

When he pulled away from me, I was breathing heavily, my lips swollen and my cheeks stained pink. But Peter was the picture of calm and collected, the hungry gleam in his eye the only indication that he felt as wild as I did.

"Very well, my little Lost Girl," Peter said as his thumbs traced lightly against my cheeks. "I'll leave the one-handed pirate and his crew alone. For now," he said with a sinister grin.

 _For now_. That was good enough for me, at least for the moment. Hopefully, if Hook kept his distance and sailed the Jolly Roger out of sight, Peter would forget the whole thing.

"Now, let's get back to camp," Peter declared as he took his hand in mine. "I'm starving."

###

Even though Peter had told me he wasn't going to go after Hook, he was still restless. He needed to do _something._

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when he announced that he and a few of the Lost Boys were leaving to go cause trouble in Eastloche as soon as dinner was finished.

I almost choked on the piece of meat in my mouth. It had been so long since I heard that name, but it didn't stop the unwanted memory from pushing through the fog.

The last time Peter and the Lost Boys had visited Eastloche, people had died. Five young boys, all drowned, and each with a letter of my name carved into their bellies. All because my father had denied to give me to Peter.

Peter gave me a knowing smile and nodded. "Yes, Sweetheart. Eastloche. It's been a while, and the boys there always seem keen on a good game of hide and seek."

My stomach dropped. I knew what that meant, but who was I to try and stop Peter? Besides, the only reason he did those things was to send a message; to help protect the Lost Boys. And me.

"When will you be back?" I asked, trying to get past the acidic taste in my mouth.

Peter helped me to my feet before pressing a kiss to my lips. "Sooner than you think," he promised. Then, he turned to the Lost Boys who would be going with him with a smirk. "Alright boys, let's head out! There's no time to waste."

As everyone scattered to go about their business, my eyes fell on John, who was sitting across the fire. He was staring at me, his eyes seeming to dance in the firelight. A ghost of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was up to something.

"I'm going to bed," I stated long after Peter had vanished into the forest, and he nodded.

"Sleep tight, Holly," he said as he threw another log on the fire. He had first watch tonight, which meant keeping the fire going and keeping threats away. "Don't let the pirates bite."

His words echoed in my ears long after I had changed into one of Peter's shirts to sleep in and long after I crawled into the bed Peter and I shared. He had never said anything like that to me before.

But before I could worry too much about it, sleep overtook me, and I was drifting into blackness, the shadows of nightmares of days long passed waiting to crash over me just as they always did.


	2. Chapter 2

_**1 Year Ago**_

It was as though I was immune to the heat radiating off the large fire blazing a few feet away. The warmth would try to settle over my skin like a blanket, only to slide off as the cool numbness in my chest rose to the surface.

I would never be warm again.

The ground where I sat was hard and cold. Goosebumps rose on my arms in the cooling night air and I shivered, trying my best to ignore the lingering glances I was getting from a few of the Lost Boys. Even with my long sleeves, pants, and knee-high leather boots, there was no escaping the cold now that the sun had set.

It was everywhere. In the air, in the ground, in my veins. It inhabited the entire god-forsaken island.

I couldn't help but envy the Lost Boys. They had cloaks. _Warm_ cloaks that my father had given them to keep the cold's kiss at bay. And to keep the peace between the Never Isles and Peter's rowdy gang of boys.

 _What a gift for only a single year of peace,_ I thought bitterly. _Something they can use forever, while they only ensure four seasons of easy breathing for everyone else._

A breeze waltzed through the camp just then, and I clenched my jaw tight to keep my teeth from chattering. It bit at my skin and I whimpered.

"Cold, Sweetheart?" Peter's whispered words tickled my ear and I froze, the cold now spreading through my veins in a way that had nothing do with the chilly air. He sank down behind me, his legs stretched on either side of my shivering form. "I can fix that if you'd like," he said as his hands found my hips.

"I-I'm f-fine," I ground out between shivers. I kept my eyes on the dancing flames of the fire.

"Are you?" Peter prodded, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. His thumbs traced circles on my lower back, and I instantly straightened, his touch anything but welcome. "Come on, Sweetheart," he practically purred in my ear as he leaned forward to press his chest into my back. "I just want to help. You've had a long few days." He brushed my hair over my shoulder, sending more shivers down my spine as the cool night air latched onto the skin of my neck. "It's your first night in your new home, and you're still recovering from that terrible blow back on the Jolly Roger. I mean, Tommy Boy giving you up just so he could _live_ a little longer instead of _fighting for your undying love?_ It's tragic really," he whispered before pressing a feather-light kiss to my neck. A few of the Lost Boys sniggered, and I flushed with shame.

The lump that knotted in my throat at his words threatened to strangle me. "Don't," I choked as I tried to pull away, but Peter just pressed against me harder, his arms snaking around my waist as the heat of his body radiated off him and washed over my back.

I let out a shaky breath as I resisted the urge to lean back against him. He was so _warm,_ and I was so _cold._ My fingers and my toes had started to tingle, and I knew that soon, I wouldn't be able to feel them at all.

"That's it, Sweetheart," he cooed as I felt my body begin to betray me. "Just relax. I've got you."

As I closed my eyes, I listened to the crackling of the wood on the fire, letting it lull me into a daze.

"That's it," Peter's voice was even quieter now, his breath tickling my skin as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. He was silent for a moment before he breathed, "You're so beautiful."

His voice was distorted in my ears, and I swear I heard another's voice laced with his. The second voice made my heart soar. I felt dizzy as flashes from a few nights ago rose to the front of my mind.

Hook and I in his quarters. Hook and I on his bed. Hook saying those exact words in between stollen kisses that I willingly gave. Hook and I…

Hook.

I jerked away, my eyes snapping open as I remembered where I was. And who I was with.

"No!" I choked, trying to squirm away from Peter. "Don't touch me!" I shrieked.

His grip on my hips tightened as he leaned in to hiss in my ear, "Suit yourself. But remember, Sweetheart, you're going to be sleeping in _my_ tent. You won't be able to avoid me then."

He stood then and all the warmth that had been at my back went with him, allowing the cold to wrap back around me with a fresh new bite.

I shivered violently as tears sprung to my eyes. Maybe I couldn't avoid him forever, but I would certainly hold out as long as I could.

"Holly?"

All eyes shot to the owner of the new voice, who was standing at the edge of camp, his cloak hanging off his broad shoulders. He held a lit torch in one hand and a spear in the other that stood as tall as he did. But even dressed as a Lost Boy, I still recognized him.

"John," I breathed, unable to believe my eyes. I stood on shaky legs, the numbness in my feet and hands temporarily forgotten as I faced my brother.

The last time I had seen him had been the day I had met Peter for the first time. The day that I realized that I was never really hidden.

He had been bruised, used as a punching bag by Peter and the Lost Boys. Peter said it was because he had tried to escape, but part of me had never believed that to be the whole truth. Part of me was sure that they beat him just because they could, just because John was outnumbered and he couldn't fight back.

John wasn't bruised now. His face was clear of any blemish, and his eye was no longer swollen like it had been that day. He was watching me with the same blue eyes my father had, never blinking; as if I would disappear in the blink of an eye.

No one moved as John set down his torch and spear or as I took a tentative step towards him. No one moved as relief washed over John's features and as a sob ripped through me. And no one moved when I ran at John full speed and crashed into his chest, his arms snaking around me like a protective wall.

"Holly," he whispered in my hair. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Holly." He repeated my name like a prayer as I sobbed into his chest, no longer worried about pretending to stay strong. One of John's hands came up to pet my hair as he kissed the top of my head. Then, he leaned down, his mouth next to my ear as he breathed the question, "Did he hurt you?"

I didn't need to ask who he meant. I shook my head just enough for him to feel, and I felt him relax a bit.

 _Not yet,_ I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue. Saying it aloud would surly make it come true, and I wanted to avoid Peter's wrath for as long as possible.

"Thank the gods," he said as he hugged me tighter. I sniffled and buried my face in his shirt, trying to focus on the feel of the soft cotton under my fingertips rather than the burning eyes of the audience that I knew were watching us.

Suddenly, a laugh pierced the silence, and I felt my body go cold again, and the small comfort that John's presence had brought me quickly disappeared.

"How precious," Peter cooed, and I heard a few of the Lost Boys snicker. "Big brother Johnny Boy has come to comfort our little Lost Girl. How sweet!" I tensed at Peter's use of the words "Lost Girl".

I was not one of them.

I would _never_ be one of them.

For the first time since the night Peter took me away, I felt fire blaze up in me. It licked up my throat and danced in my mouth, just waiting for me to spit it at Peter and his goons. But as I went to step out of John's embrace and do just that, I felt John squeeze me slightly.

"Don't take the bait," he hissed. I opened my mouth to argue when his embrace became almost painful. "Don't take the bait," he repeated, his voice like stone. "And no matter what happens, you do as he says. Understand?" When I didn't answer him right away, he became angry. "Holly," he warned.

"Okay," I whispered, although the word felt like the final nail in my coffin. The last thing I wanted to do was do what Peter said.

John and I broke apart then as the Lost Boys continued to make jabs at our reunion. Peter watched on, his arms crossed, looking smug. He enjoyed singling us out, making us the outcasts, and even though that's exactly what John and I were amongst this group of devious boys, it still made me angry.

But what made me even more angry was that I couldn't do anything about it. This was Peter's kingdom, his game. And I had no choice but to play along.

The thought made the anger in my veins run cold.

"Your sister's had a long day, Johnny Boy," Peter said with a smirk as he made his way over to where we were standing. My hand brushed John's, and he didn't hesitate to take it as Peter came to toe to toe with him. "I think it might be time she lay down and… get some rest," he finished with a sideways glance at me.

The words slid over my skin and caused me to shiver. John stiffened, his jaw flexing as he bit his tongue. A few of the older Lost Boys snickered, and a few whooped and hollered, their low whistles making my knees want to buckle.

I jumped when I felt Peter grasp my other hand, and when he tried to pull me to him, my grip tightened on John.

I looked at John with wide eyes. "John." I said his name like a plea. "John!"

"Just do as he says," he hissed in my ear as Peter finally pulled me away from John, but I could hear the desperation in his voice as he tried to figure out how to help me, how to protect me from Peter.

But he couldn't. Not here.

"Say goodnight, Sweetheart," Peter teased as he began to pull me through camp and towards his tent. I knew it was his because it was the largest one. "You definitely won't be leaving my tent until morning."

The Lost Boys' whooping and hollering sounded far away in my ears as I stumbled along beside Peter. The glint in his eye made my stomach curl violently, and I had to will myself not crumple to the ground.

Just before Peter pulled me through the flaps of his tent, I craned my neck to look back at John.

His eyes were misty with tears, and his hands were clenched tight at this sides as he shook. He swallowed hard, and then his mouth formed the silent words, "I'm sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I want to put out a warning with this chapter. It made my stomach churn a bit while I was writing it and again as I read over it to post. I know that I've said it a hundred times, but I was to say it again: **Peter is a dark character in my stories. He is twisted and manipulative and abusive.** That is all. Happy Reading! ~Miss Faery

###

Darkness and silence plagued the tent. No firelight filtered through the tent flap and I could no longer hear the Lost Boys outside. It was as though, in this tent, Peter and I were completely separated from the outside world.

All I could hear was my rapid heartbeat thundering away in my ears and my shaky breathing. Peter's hand had left mine the moment the tent flap had fallen behind us, and his steps were so light that I couldn't hear him. And since my eyes weren't adjusting to the darkness quickly enough, I couldn't see him either.

"What do you think, Sweetheart," Peter's voice in my ear made me jump, and I heard him chuckle. "Should I light a few candles? Make this all a bit more romantic?"

Words failed me. They rose in my throat, demanding to be said, demanding that I plea and beg for him not to touch me, but they died on my tongue. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but my hands were too heavy to lift. I was quivering like a leaf in a storm, but I felt as heavy as an anchor, unable to move at all.

"I'd like an answer, Sweetheart," Peter prodded, his hand coming up to pet my hair. He was behind me, I could feel it now. His body heat pulsed at my back, and I wondered if he could somehow see in the dark, see how terrified I was.

But still, no answer came. Tears began to fall onto my cheeks one by one and I had to bite my tongue to quit from making any noise. The tangy taste of copper filled my mouth, and it did nothing to help my curling stomach.

Silence stretched for what felt like hours, Peter's fingers combing through my hair as I waited for him to get on with whatever he was planning. Although, I was pretty sure I knew _exactly_ what he was planning.

When Peter's hands found my shoulders and turned me towards him, I let out something that was a mix between a sob and a whimper.

"Shh," he hushed me, but it didn't stop the tears from falling. Then, he said, "I think I'd like to see your pretty face when you crawl into my bed for the first time."

I sucked in a breath, my cheeks blazing hot as Peter's hands left my shoulders. I felt him move past me, taking the air in the tent with him as he made his way towards the back of the tent. Then, one by one, he lit a candle, bathing the tent in a golden glow with long, dark shadows.

I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned, desperate for me to get some air, but I couldn't. Panic was choking me, and I wished it would have hurried up and killed me.

 _Run!_ my mind screamed at me, but my feet didn't listen. Besides, how far would I get before he caught me?

"You look beautiful, Sweetheart."

His words were soft and that somehow gave me the courage to meet Peter's gaze, but when my eyes took in the sight of him, I was quickly reminded that his soft words meant nothing when it came to who he really was.

Peter loomed before me, half his face bathed in candlelight while the other half was blanketed in shadow. His hair glowed copper and hunger flared in his eyes as he peered down at me. His shoulders were back, his spine straight with power as the candles glinted off two daggers that hung in his belt. I swallowed hard, hoping he didn't plan on using them.

"I've been so patient," he said, his voice still low and soft, rolling over me in waves and sending chills down my spine. "You should have been here weeks ago." As he took a step towards me, his hands rose up to his belt. He undid the buckle slowly, letting the belt, as well as the two daggers, fall away. Part of me was relieved, but a bigger part of me was frightened. Peter knew he didn't need to use his weapons to get to me. He could do that all on his own.

I stiffened when his hands cupped my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as he wiped away my tears.

"We have so much lost time to make up for," he said before he crashed his lips to mine.

The kisses were bruising, all teeth and swollen lips. I gasped when one of Peter's hands fisted in my hair, and Peter wasted no time delving his tongue in my mouth, exploring every inch as I fought feebly to pull away. But Peter's grip on my hair was strong, and I couldn't move. I tried pushing him away, but it only seemed to spur him on.

When his tongue slipped from my mouth I took in as much air as I could, gasping at Peter's mouth latched onto my neck. My fingers dug into his shoulders as I tried to just hold on and make it through this. I could feel his teeth scrape my skin as he sucked hard, and I knew, without a doubt, that there would be a bruise there that would last for days.

"Every Lost Boy in camp is going to know _exactly_ who you belong to," he said against my neck and I whimpered.

My heart threw itself against my ribcage as Peter continued his assault, but it was nothing compared to how I felt when he pulled away to admire his work.

His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen and the gleam in his eye had far surpassed hunger. His pupils were blown with lust, the green in his eyes almost non-existent as his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip.

He gave me a face-splitting grin. "Get undressed for me, Sweetheart," he rasped, his voice thick with desire. I felt my breath catch at his words, and for the first time since Peter took me away, my racing heart seemed to stop. "Get undressed for me and wait under the covers. I'll be back soon." I watched, my body frozen with shock, as he made his way to the tent's entrance. The more distance Peter put between us, the louder my resuming heartbeat sounded, and with each _thu-thump_ pulsating in the area where he had latched onto my neck, the more nauseated I felt.

Just as he was about to let the tent flap fall behind him, Peter stopped and turned back to me. One side of his mouth turned up in a half-smile as he raked his eyes over my body. "I suggest you do as I say," he said, his voice low. "I'm not below holding you down and ripping those clothes from your body. And when I get all riled up like that, I'm no where near as… gentle."

It wasn't a threat, I realized as he finally slipped away. It was a promise.

My mind was reeling as I stared at the spot where Peter had been standing. I had a choice in how tonight played out, and while it all ended up the same way, I had a choice in the amount of trouble and pain he was going to cause.

As I tried to remain calm, I turned my eyes to the bed that Peter expected me to be waiting in.

It wasn't much of a bed, really. It was more like a thick pile of furs with feather pillows. If I knew it wasn't Peter's, and if I didn't know what was sure to happen to me in the confines of those blankets, it would have been inviting.

My eyes burned with the threat of tears and my chest constricted. I swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in my throat as I ran my hand over the furs.

I didn't want it to happen this way, especially not with Peter. But if I didn't give Peter what he wanted, he was going to take it anyway.

My mind flashed back to the night on the Jolly Roger when Hook and I had retreated to the privacy of his quarters after dancing the night away. He had hovered over me, smelling of sweat, sea salt, and rum, and he had tasted the same way. The scruff of his beard had scratched deliciously against my cheek and my neck, and the coolness of the silver of his hook had given me goosebumps as he slid the strap of my dress off my shoulder.

I had told him to wait, and he had insisted that he wasn't going to go any farther.

" _Can't have you taking advantage of me now, can we?"_ he had asked, and we had both laughed. My heart hadn't felt heavy as it did now, and I had laughed without worry. Peter Pan and his Lost Boys were the farthest thing from my mind.

And now, it was something I couldn't ignore because I was right in the middle of it all.

 _You always were, you foolish girl,_ I scolded myself and choked on a sob.

And I was sure that Peter wasn't going to be as understanding as Hook should I ask him to wait. In fact, it would probably only make him angry.

I blinked rapidly as I kicked off my leather boots and inched the soft cotton of my shirt up my body. A shaky breath passed my lips as the cold licked at my skin and caused goosebumps to rise on my arms and shoulders. When my hands found the band to my trousers, my thumbs brushed my hip bones, and I almost screamed at the thought of Peter's hands on my bare skin. And even though I was cold, my body was flushed red as I slipped my undergarments down my legs and let them pool at my feet. Before I stepped out of them, I unclasped the hook of my brassiere and let the straps slide down my arms.

My legs threatened to buckle as I stepped out the pile of clothes at my feet and made my way towards the pile of furs, and even though I was very much alone in the tent, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

The thought of Peter watching from just beyond the tent flap sent a bitter chill down my spine.

The dam of my resolve finally broke when I climbed under the furs. I clutched the blankets to my chest in a feeble attempt to keep myself covered even though Peter wasn't back yet. Sobs ripped through me as I fought to catch my breath. The bed cradled me gently, and I wondered how something so comfortable could belong to such a terrible person. I let my shoulders sink into the soft fur, my head resting on the feather pillows.

"Now _that's_ a sight I could definitely get used to."

I shot up in bed, the blankets clutched tight to my chest as I stared down Peter.

He was grinning ear to ear as he stalked closer to the bed, a small bundle curled under one arm. But I wasn't paying attention to the bundle; my eyes never left Peter. I was trapped and he knew it, and there was no hiding the power he felt as he took in the sight of my bare arms and shoulders.

"Oh _yes_ , Sweetheart," he whispered as he sank down onto the bed and ran a finer up my arm and across my collarbone. "I wish you could see how you looked right now. So gorgeous. So—" he tried to pull the blanket away and I choked on a sob. He pulled back, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest, "—terrified. I love it."

"Peter," I croaked, somehow finding my voice. "Please…"

"Please what, my little Lost Girl?" he asked as he scooted closer. His hand ran over my shoulder and down my bare back. I shivered as Peter's callouses scratched my skin, and he made a sound that reminded me of a growl and a moan. "I don't want to waste anymore time talking, Sweetheart, so make it quick."

His hand was in the small of my back, tracing patterns that made every nerve in my body tingle as he leaned in and started leaving open-mouthed kisses across my collarbone. Once again, his other hand came up and tugged on the blanket that stood between him and seeing my bare skin. He tugged harder this time, and I felt the fur slipping between my fingers.

The tent was beginning to spin dangerously as I tried to find my voice, tried to find a way to make Peter stop. To make all this stop.

Another sharp tug on the blanket and a harsh bite to my collarbone tore a scream from my throat before I finally found my courage again.

"No!" I screamed as I pushed against Peter with everything I had while still holding onto the fur blanket. Peter, although completely unaffected by my pushing, sat back and looked at me with deadly eyes.

"No?" he asked, and I felt myself flinch.

"No," I repeated, although it sounded weak coming from my trembling lips. "I don't want this, Peter," I declared, my voice cracking. "Please!"

Peter stared at me for what felt like hours, his dark eyes dancing dangerously with the flickering candles. I was sure at any moment he was going to push me onto my back and have his way.

And then he started laughing.

Confusion and weariness settled over me as Peter leaned back and wiped a tear from his eye. Then, he cupped my face in his hands and leaned in close, his eyes still intense but with a hint of impish glee dancing in them.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I wish you thought higher of me sometimes." My brows drew together as the confusion lingered, but then Peter put the bundle he had brought in my lap. "Get dressed," he said with a peck to my cheek. Then, he stood and made his way back to the tent's entrance.

I unfolded the bundle to find a shirt that was certainly long enough to be used as a nightgown. Stunned, I looked up at Peter, who was lingering at the entrance.

"Get some rest, my little Lost Girl," he stated with a smile. "There won't be much time to sleep from here on out."

Without another word, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

A monster wave, larger than any of the others we had faced, loomed above our heads, preparing to fall.

And we wouldn't be able to outrun it.

"Prepare to swim, lads!" Hook shouted as the roar of the water became deafening.

 _I can't swim!_ I wanted to shout, but the terror I felt wrapped its fingers around my throat and kept me silent. _I can't-_

The wave was on top of us, tossing the boat over as if it didn't weigh anything at all. No one had time to scream as the wave pushed us all under the surface.

I spiraled through the water, my limbs useless as the cold bit at my skin. I opened my eyes in a weak attempt to get my bearings, but the salt water stung my eyes, and when I gasped, water quickly filled my mouth and lungs.

I tried to cough, to rid myself of the salty ocean water, but the water stayed lodged in my lungs, setting my chest on fire as I tried to kick and pull my way to the surface.

But it was dark, and I wasn't entirely sure which way was up and which way was down.

Panic replaced any rational thought, and I opened my mouth to scream, to call for help, only to be silenced as a new wave of heat rushed down my throat and behind my ribs.

I'm not sure how long I had thrashed around before I felt a strong hand grab my wrist and yank me upwards. When my head broke the surface, I inhaled my first mouthful of air, only to start coughing up the lungfuls of water that had plagued my insides. I felt like I was suffocating again as my body pushed the water up and out but didn't allow any air in.

But I was above the surface, and that was all that mattered.

"Holly?"

I hardly heard him over the roll of thunder and the pelting rain on the water, but my eyes snapped up anyway. I was met with cerulean eyes and black hair, and I felt relief wash through me.

"Thomas!" Tears sprang to my eyes as I reached for him, so desperate to cling to him and never let go again, and I was welcomed when he pulled me to him, his good hand always treading water as he fought to keep us above the surface. I wrapped one arm around his neck and helped tread water as I began to cry.

"You're alright, love," Hook reassured me, but I could see the tears in his eyes as well. "I've got you. It's alright."

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," I admitted as a flash of lightening lit up the sky. We were rising and falling with the building waves, but there didn't seem to be anymore monster waves in sight.

He was quiet for a moment before he admitted, "I didn't either. But I'm so glad you're here."

Even though I was smiling, I choked on a sob.

That's when I heard it, off in the distance.

 _Tick, tick, tick, tick._

My heart ceased as it came closer, the ticking louder after each roll of thunder.

Hook's eyes went wide when he finally heard it, his eyes searching the dark water. The color drained from his face as he began to shout, "No! _No!_ Take her! _Take her!"_

My stomach dropped at the familiarity of his words, and flashes of that night on the Jolly Roger became crystal clear. Hook, bruised and bloody and scared. Peter, demanding that he make a choice. And the crocodile, his incessant ticking always constant.

When Hook seized my shoulders and began trying to push me under, I began thrashing again. I grasped at his wrists, his arms, anywhere I could grab, but it was no use. Hook was larger than I was, and he was stronger.

I screamed then, as loud and as shrill as I possibly could before Hook finally succeeded in getting me beneath the surface and holding me there.

"Take her!" I could still hear his words under the surface as the ticking grew louder. "Take her! Not me!"

I screamed again, the water around me muffling it as bubbles rose around me. Why was he doing this?

As quickly as it had all started, it was over. The ticking noise of the crocodile vanished, as did Hook's hands on my shoulders. Everything was eerily quiet.

Then, a set of calloused hands reached beneath the surface and pulled me up, but this time, I felt sand appear beneath my feet and I quickly stood up, gasping for air as I once again broke the surface.

I clung to my savior, determined not to go under again unless I took them with me should they try to drown me.

"You're alright, Sweetheart," Peter's voice rumbled in his chest at my ear, and while my mind screamed at me to get away as fast as I could, my body didn't move. "I've got you. Don't you worry," he said into my hair as he held me up, "I'm gonna pick up all the pieces he's left you in."

###

My eyes shot open as I gasped, my heart hammering in my chest so hard I was sure it was going to burst. The furs felt smothering and I was far too warm. My hair stuck to my temples and my neck, and as I attempted to kick the mountain of blankets off, an arm wrapped around my middle and held me steady.

"Shh, you're alright. Don't worry, my little Lost Girl. You're alright."

Despite the fear that flared in me at Peter's voice, the relief that washed through me that everything before had just been a nightmare won out. I took a shaky breath and tried to relax, the cool air of the tent quickly washing over my feverish skin.

I wiped away the lingering sweat and tears with the back of my hand and stared at the dark ceiling of Peter's tent. My eyes still weren't adjusting properly, but I didn't need to see anything to feel Peter and his body heat next to me.

He shifted, and I was sure that he had propped himself up on an elbow in order to look down at me. I could feel his gaze on my face as his thumb traced circles on the bare skin of my hip. I flushed with embarrassment knowing that the shirt Peter had lent me to sleep in had moved up in my sleep enough for Peter to be touching my skin. All it would take for him to see my bottom half practically bare would be a quick peek under the covers. The thought made me shift uncomfortably, but Peter's hand never left it's spot.

"Nightmares?" Peter asked gently, but I didn't answer him. I was still trying to process what the dream had been about, how everything had been so twisted and yet true in a weird way. But like most dreams, most of the details were already fading. "Don't worry, my little Lost Girl," he said as his hand left my hip and cupped my chin. "You can tell me."

I yanked my chin away and rolled over to my side and away from Peter. " _Why_ do you keep calling me that?" I asked as my mind continued to reel from my nightmare. I didn't want to talk about my dreams, especially with Peter, no matter how much he thought it might help.

The last words Peter spoke to me in my dream echoed loud in my ears; the same words he told me my last night on the Jolly Roger only a few nights ago.

Had it really only been a few nights? It felt like eternity.

Peter's hand rubbed my arm gently as he moved closer to me, his chest pressing into my shoulders like Hook's had during the nights we shared in his quarters. The thought made my throat close and my heart ache.

"That's what you are, isn't it?" he inquired before he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. When I didn't answer, he continued. "You're defeated. You've been given up by everyone you loved and trusted. Your father, your kingdom, Hook…" I tried to swallow the knot that was quickly rising in my throat, but it was impossible. I knew they shouldn't but Peter's words were getting to me. "You've been given up and forgotten. You're so far away from anything familiar to you." I clutched the blankets tight in my fists. "You don't know which way is up and who you can trust. You don't know who's going to take care of you and who's going to leave you to drown."

A single tear escaped the corner of my eye and slid down into my hair. _He's lying,_ I tried to convince myself, but there was a part of me that wasn't so sure.

"Face it, Sweetheart," Peter stated as he turned me gently onto my back. "You're lost. Just like the rest of us."

I shook my head defiantly as another tear escaped, but all the words I wanted to say died in my throat. I tried taking a deep breath to calm myself down, to ease the constant pain in my chest, but it was no use.

"Shh," Peter hushed me gently as he began stroking my hair. "Don't worry, Sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

The way he said it, so soft, so sincere, made it hard not to believe him. But in that brief moment when I let Peter's words shake my resolve, I felt my heart break a little more.

I had only been Peter's prisoner for a few days and I was already beginning to fall for his lies.

 _What would Thomas think?_ I thought as Hook's face flashed in my mind.

But as I lay next to Peter and as he stroked my hair, I felt the thought slip away and I felt my eyelids begin to flutter shut as my resolve to fight him cracked.


	5. Chapter 5

As I slowly fought through the fogginess of sleep, I realized the spot next to me was cold, which meant that Peter had been gone for some time.

Rubbing my eyes, I allowed myself to stretch my achey muscles. I had slept heavier than I thought possible, yet I still felt exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones and makes your entire body feel heavy. If I closed my eyes, I could almost fool myself into thinking I was waking up in Hook's quarters and not Peter's tent.

But I was no fool, and the ache in my chest that accompanied the thought of Hook almost hurt as bad as waking up in Peter's tent, in Peter's bed.

Now that the sun was up, light bled through the walls of the tent and ignited my curiosity. Despite my protesting muscles, I sat up and took in my surroundings.

Peter's tent was nothing what I expected it to be. It was clean, organized, and sparse. There was more space than he seemed to know what to do with, the only furniture being the pile of furs he called a bed, a couple of wooden chests, some animal skin rugs, and a table covered with parchment.

I settled back onto the pillows then, determined to enjoy the quiet while it lasted. Peter was sure to appear any moment any ruin it.

Quiet. Everything was quiet.

Pushing myself up again, I strained my ears to listen. I expected to hear a fire crackling or to hear some of the Lost Boys taking jabs at each other. I expected to hear Peter talking over the lot of them, ordering them around or getting them all riled up for something.

But my ears were only met with silence.

Thankfully, my clothes were still in a pile next to the bed. I changed quickly and tiptoed across the tent, intent on not making a sound. I kept waiting to hear a voice, to hear anything, but the only sounds I heard belonged to the bugs and birds of the jungle.

I peeled the tent flap back slowly before peeking my head out and found the camp empty. Peter and the Lost Boys were no where in sight.

The fire pit in the center of camp smoked a bit, the embers still hot, and I began to wonder if they were all still sleeping. Careful not to step on a twig or kick up any dead leaves, I made my way over to the closest tent and peeked inside.

Nothing. Empty.

I checked every tent, but each one lacked any trace of the Lost Boys. After checking the last one and coming up with nothing other than the smell of body odor and rumpled beds, I took a step back and furrowed my brow. Where could they be?

A twig snapped close by, but when I turned to look at who— or _what—_ caused the noise, my eyes only fell on trees and shrubs. I willed my hammering heart to slow down, that there was nothing to worry about, when another twig snapped behind me. This time, when I whirled around, I caught a glimpse of a shadow before it disappeared behind a large tree.

"Hello?" I called as my palms began to sweat. The forest was far too warm now that the sun was up, and my clothes felt too constricting. A bead of sweat trickled down my neck as I took a careful step forward, my eyes glued to the tree.

I knew there was something there, and I wasn't going to miss it should it try to run.

Silence stretched as I inched closer to the tree, and I briefly wondered if I was mad for trying to sneak up on whatever was hiding behind the tree.

"If this is a joke," I stated, my voice wavering as I tried to sound brave, "it isn't funny."

More silence.

I stopped a few feet from the tree, hoping that whatever or whoever stood on the other side would step out and show themselves. When nothing happened, I took one more step and then launched around the tree.

Only to find nothing on the other side.

I huffed in irritation. I could have sworn…

I stared hard at the spot, as if doing so would make whatever I _thought_ was there appear, but to no avail. The air remained empty, and the shadow that I swore had darted behind the tree had either taken off or disappeared.

 _Maybe it was nothing at all_ , I thought and rubbed my forehead. I was beginning to get a headache, and the heat certainly wasn't helping.

The bark was rough as I lightly ran my fingers over it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of earth, the decaying leaves under my feet. In that moment, I could have convinced myself into believing I was back in Starryview, taking a walk through the woods to Tink's well. Robbie and Nora, even Marie, were only just down the path.

My throat closed and when I opened my eyes, my vision was blurry with tears. No matter how hard I wished it, I was still on this wretched island with Peter and the Lost Boys.

Now feeling defeated, I turned to make my way back to the center of camp to sit by the fire pit and wait for someone to return to camp.

Because where could I go? What could I do other than wait?

The log that I decided to use as a seat was far from comfortable as it dug awkwardly into my skin but no matter how much I shifted, the discomfort remained. It faced a spot between two tents, and all I could see beyond were trees and slits of sunlight as it floated down through the canopy of leaves.

I debated whether or not to collect firewood just to give myself something to do, but there was no need for a fire right now with the sun bearing down on the camp, and I wasn't about to do anything to help make the Lost Boys' lives any easier.

Minutes dragged by but the camp remained empty and the longer I waited, the more anxious I became. Every noise became a dangerous monster that stalked just out of sight, waiting to pounce on poor, unsuspecting me. Every shrill bird's cry became the cry of a young boy that Peter sacrificed to the crocodile, and every shadow and rustle of leaves became a Lost Boy playing a dangerous game of hide and seek.

I ducked my head and took a deep, shuddering breath. My knees bounced frantically as I grabbed at them, my palms clammy despite the heat. I wished desperately that this was all a terrible nightmare, that I would wake up tucked safely against Hook in Fairedge after a terrible night of drinking, that everything that happened after docking in Fairedge was all a terrible figment of my tipsy imagination.

But even as I wished it, I knew it wasn't true. Everything that had happened really did happen. Hook gave me up to Peter, and now I was here. Scared and alone and very, very lost.

My nails dug painfully into my kneecaps as I hunched over, shoulders shaking, and cried.

"You aren't lost," a voice answered my thoughts that wasn't my own. "At least, not yet."

I straightened fast enough to make me dizzy, quickly wiping away the tears that still pooled in front of my eyes. When I looked at the space between the two tents, my eyes fell on someone standing there. But it wasn't a Lost Boy or Peter or John.

It was a girl. A girl who looked to be about my age, with thick raven hair that hung down to her waist and dark eyes that held the delicate shapes of almonds. Her skin looked as though it had never missed a day being kissed by the sun and she was barefoot. The dress she wore was made from the hide of an animal and hung to her knees. It looked heavy and warm and I wondered how she wasn't sweating up a storm or suffocating.

She stood tall, just a bit taller than me, and proud, her chin held high as she looked at me. And while her stance reminded me of a warrior, her eyes were soft and sad.

She pitied me. I couldn't blame her.

"Who are you?" I asked as I got to my feet. As I did so, the girl took a half step back away from me.

"An ally," she replied simply, the twitch of a smile crossing her lips as she said it. Then, before I could ask her anything more, she turned on her heel and ran.

"Wait!" I shouted after her, but she didn't slow. She didn't even look back over her shoulder; she just kept running. So I did the only thing I could do.

I ran after her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Warning! This chapter contains a lot of Dark!Peter, mild torture, and mind games.

* * *

My lungs burned and sweat soaked my shirt. I had rolled my ankle twice and had burst through tangled branches that left scratches along my hands, face, and neck. The cuts burned as sweat slid over them, but the girl with raven hair just kept running. Her pace never changed, yet I couldn't seem to gain any ground.

It was a wonder that she never stumbled, especially with her feet bare. It was like she knew where she was going, knew every bump and dip in the ground and every angle the sharp branches reached.

When she cleared a bush in one leap, I figured I would just burst through it. Surly, it would help me to catch up to her.

But then the thorns ripped into my trousers and dug into my skin and I felt warmth blossom over my legs as I stumbled face first into the dirt. I put out my hands to catch myself, only to have my fingers slide through dirt and dead foliage. Pain shot up both my arms as the wind was knocked from my lungs.

I untangled myself as quickly as I could, my adrenaline quickly numbing the pain as I pushed myself up to my feet and took off again, my anger and embarrassment now fueling my speed. I dared not look down to assess the damage; there would be time for that later.

Thankfully, the raven-haired girl hadn't slipped away, and I could see her weaving through the jungle just ahead. She was bounding towards a wall of vines and greenery that hung between two large trees, a strip of sunlight gleaming in the middle.

At the last second, she turned her body and slipped through the strip of sunlight, hardly disturbing the curtain of green. Determined not to lose her, I gave myself one last push of energy and hurled myself after her.

The light on the other side was blinding and the ground beneath my boots was soft and shifting, sending me stumbling.

I blinked away the dots in my vision as I turned one way and then the other, searching for the girl through the hazy sunlight.

I gasped down mouthfuls of the crisp, clean ocean air while I resisted the urge to sink into the soft, warm sand. I was drenched in sweat and in desperate need of a drink, my mouth dry and my tongue swollen and clumsy as I tried to wet my mouth. I had lost her somehow. There wasn't another soul on the beach.

The ocean before me matched the color of the clear sky above as it stretched for miles. The push and pull of the waves helped slow my racing heart as the light breeze helped cool my flushed skin. I hadn't realized how suffocating Pan's camp and the forest had been until that moment, and now I didn't want to return. But I'd have to before Peter saw that I was missing.

"Where's the fire, Sweetheart?"

My throat jumped to my throat as I whirled around, effectively rolling my ankle a third time. I winced with each heartbeat that echoed in my ankle, but I tried to stand tall as Pan stared down at me from the tree line.

He leaned lazily against a vine-covered tree, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, but while his stance was relaxed, he looked anything but. His jaw was clenched, his smile strained and his eyes dark and dangerous. The cords in his neck appeared each time he flexed his jaw and his shoulders were squared.

"There's no escaping this island, Holly," he stated cooly as he pushed himself off the tree and began stalking towards me slowly.

My stomach dropped and I shook my head. "I-I wasn't—"

" _Don't—"_ he shouted the word before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath "—Lie. To me," he finished with a hiss through clenched teeth. He withdrew his hands from his pockets, his fingers flexing into fists before relaxing again. As he drew closer, I could see that his cheeks and neck were flushed scarlet.

With the ocean at my back and Peter before me, I had no where to run, and if I somehow made it past Peter and back into the jungle, I knew he'd find me. He probably knew the jungle like the back of his hand. There would be no escaping Peter, only putting off the inevitable.

Whatever the inevitable was.

"The boys and I were on our way back to camp when I spotted you trying to make a run for it." He was standing before me now, but I didn't make a move to run or to put distance between us. There was a power radiating off of him that felt heavy and dangerous, telling me to stay where I was. But despite my fear, I still managed to shake my head.

"I wasn't—"

Peter's hand seized the front of my shirt and yanked me up so my feet were dangling off the ground. We were nose to nose as he hissed, "I _saw_ you with my own two eyes, Sweetheart. You were trying to run away. Why else would you leave camp?" My mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water, but I couldn't make the words come out. Peter cocked his head. "Were you trying to hide?"

Did I dare tell him about the raven-haired girl? If I did, would he go looking for her? Would he order for her to be captured?

As I wrestled with myself, there was a nagging feeling in my gut that told me to keep quiet. She had told me she was an ally, and if she was telling the truth, she could be useful. She was no use to me captured.

"Well?" Peter demanded, giving me a shake.

"I needed air!" My voice came out high and desperate as Peter's emerald eyes blazed. "I just needed some air! I was suffocating."

Peter stared at me a moment before he closed his eyes and let go of a long breath. The tension in his neck and shoulders ebbed away, and the crimson in his cheeks faded to a soft pink, bringing the splatter of freckles across his cheeks and nose to the surface. When he looked at me again, his eyes were softer, but there was a smoldering anger still there that could flare at any moment and burn me.

"Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous this island is, Sweetheart?" Peter asked me as he set me down gingerly. I sighed in relief as my boots touched the sand, but Peter's hand never untangled from the front of my shirt. I shook my head, and Peter mirrored me. "No, I didn't think so." With his free hand, Peter brushed my cheek with the pad of his thumb. His callouses scratched at my skin, the sensation enough to set my teeth on edge. "There are rules to living on this island, Holly, and you _must_ follow them. The rules keep you safe, keep you _alive."_

I swallowed hard as Peter finally dropped his hand from the front of my shirt to my hand and began guiding me not towards the trees but towards the water that licked at the shore. My heart slammed into my ribs as a small smile appeared on his lips, his eyes twinkling with malice and amusement.

Peter stepped into the water and dragged me with him. Even though the summer air was warm, the ocean's water was cool and brought goosebumps to my skin. Peter stopped moving when the water licked at the bottom of my ribcage and I was clinging to him. My breath was coming in quick gasps. The current would push us back towards shore and then try to pull us out farther and every once in a while, a swell would lift us off the ocean floor, coaxing a whimper of panic from my throat before gently setting us back onto the shifting sand.

"First rule, Sweetheart," Peter stated as he forced me to look at him. "You are _never_ to leave the tree line. The beach is too dangerous."

I nodded frantically; anything to get us out of the ocean back onto safe land. Slowly, Peter and I were being dragged out farther and the water was clawing farther up my body. Flashes of my nightmare began to rise in my mind as I thought about the water filling my lungs and leaving me helpless.

Unwelcome tears sprang to my eyes as I focused on anchoring my feet to the bottom, but I was no match for the ocean and its waves as they filled my boots and weaved through the threads of my clothes, making them an anchor that could drown me.

"There are creatures in these waters that are more than capable of luring you into the water," Peter leaned down and whispered in my ear. I clamped my eyes shut as I tried to block out the rising hysteria and the growing growl of the ocean around me. Images of such creatures rose from the darkest parts of my imagination. Peter didn't say what they looked like, but I imagined ugly sea creatures that could swallow a ship. They wrapped slimy tentacles around my ankles, around my throat. They had eyes the color of sick and wreaked even worse, and when they opened their mouths to swallow me, I was greeted by rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. But could something so awful actually lure me into the water? Peter seemed to think so. "And when they get you into the water," Peter's words broke through my imaginative nightmare, "do you know what they do?"

I curled my fingers tighter into Peter's shirt and buried my head in his chest as I shook my head. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he rubbed my arms. The wet thread of my shirt mixed with the salt of the ocean was rubbing my skin raw.

While I was distracted, Peter hooked one of his long legs around both my mine and yanked them from underneath me. His hands dug painfully into my upper arms as pushed me under the water.

My scream was cut short as water filled my mouth. Thankfully, I seemed to have learned my lesson when it came to being underwater because I didn't attempt to take a breath. I kicked and thrashed as the salt burned on my tongue, but Peter's grip was firm. I tried to get my feet underneath me, but the sand was constantly shifting, and I couldn't get the footing I needed.

As my lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen, Peter yanked me from the water. I coughed, expelling all the water from my mouth before gasping for air. I rapidly blinked away the stinging salt water, but my relief was short-lived when he pushed me under again.

This time, Peter didn't pull me up until I was forced to swallow water and the edges of my vision began to go dark.

The third time, my limbs were so heavy that I could hardly hold on to Peter's wrists as he pushed me farther down.

The fourth time I prayed that he would just let me drown, but that would be asking too much. To Peter's credit though, he was kind enough to let me slip into blackness and enjoy the peaceful quiet of that place, even if it was only for a short while.

###

"That's a girl," Peter's cooing voice was far away as I felt fire race up my throat. Water spilled from my mouth as I sputtered to get air, my lungs heavy and water-logged. The peaceful blackness slowly faded to grey and then weak colors began to bleed through; the blue of the sky, the white sand, Peter's red hair.

It was all too much like the night Hook pulled me from the water.

I quickly turned to my side as another surge of water came up, spilling it into the sand between Peter and I.

I clamped my eyes shut to block out the burn from the salt water as I curled in on myself in a weak attempt to get warm. I shivered violently as the breeze raked over my skin, and I cursed myself for following the raven-haired girl. If I had been thinking, if I had been smart about the situation, it would have been obvious to stay put.

"Rule number two," Peter said as he dragged me to my feet and held me by my elbows as I swayed. "You will _never_ leave the camp alone. You must always have a Lost Boy or myself with you."

I blinked slowly, my eyelids feeling heavy. When Peter arched a waiting eyebrow, I nodded, my head heavy as I tried to keep it on my shoulders. I ended up resting my head against his chest, his steady heartbeat so unlike my erratic one.

"Can you walk?" he asked gently, stroking my wet hair as if he hadn't just tried to drown me. Despite the fact that Peter was as soaked as I was, he didn't seem effected by the cold. He radiated the same heat as he had the night before and I found myself wanting to absorb all his warmth and to let it sink into my skin.

"I t-think s-s-so," I stammered through chattering teeth and a throat scratched raw from sea water, but the first step back I took, I stumbled. Peter's arms were around me before I could hit the sand and, before I could protest, he was scooping me into his arms, his warmth seeping into me as I sighed in relief.

Peter carried me all the way back to camp, his feet never stumbling and his strength never wavering as he held me in his arms. The farther we walked, the more I recovered. My throat was still raw, but my tongue no longer felt swollen and heavy. I had stopped shivering, and I could keep my eyes open for longer than a few fleeting moments.

I heard the boys long before we reached camp. They were shouting at one another, whooping and hollering like savages. When they came into sight, they seemed to be playing some rowdy game that required tackling and pinning each other to the jungle floor. The older boys leaned against trees, watching with bored expressions, their hands always hovering just over their weapons.

"Pan!" shouted a younger boy with shaggy blonde curls and bright blue eyes. He was currently at the bottom of a dog pile and was squirming to make his way out. His exclamation caused everyone to pause in their activities and to echo their excitement.

"Pan's back!" shouted a burly boy as he swung his club around and knocked another boy in the back of the head.

The situation quickly slipped out of hand as boys began tackling the boy with the club while others tried to pull them apart, ultimately causing a wide-spread fight. The older boys rolled their eyes.

Except John, who's eyes were on me, his brow furrowed as his eyes took in my soaked clothes and wet hair.

"Enough!" Peter barked and everyone, including me, flinched. "I wasn't gone long and you're all acting like a bunch of children!" The fight instantly stopped and all the boys quickly separated, most of them looking down sheepishly while others pouted at being scolded. Peter paused a moment to make sure he had everyone's attention before he set me down on a log. I thought of getting up and running to John, but Peter's hands quickly found my shoulders, holding me in place.

"Holly here broke a rule today, boys," Peter explained and I watched as each of the boys perked up at his words. "A very, very important rule."

John paled, his hands curling into fists as his eyes slid between Peter and I.

"Holly decided to visit the beach today," Peter stated, and the collective gasps that the younger boys let out told me that I had _indeed_ broken a very, very important rule. But I already knew that. Peter had made that very clear back on the beach.

Realization dawned on John's face and he seemed to realize why I was soaking wet. His jaw clenched as his eyes bored into me, and I had to look away.

"I punished her a bit already, explaining why the beach was so dangerous, but I have yet to finish the job." My chest tightened at his statement. Had almost drowning me not been enough? "Do I have any volunteers to help me out?"

The entire camp instantly surged to their feet, their hands in the air as they shouted at Peter to pick them.

My breath was coming in quick gasps as the small sea of faces seemed to blur together. The world was tilting and I felt torn between curling in on myself and running, but with Peter's hands heavy on my shoulders, it seemed all I could do was sit there and wait.

A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I looked to find John on his feet, his face still pale and his eyes dark with fear. "Pan—" he started, but Peter interrupted him.

"Johnny Boy!" he exclaimed with a sinister grin, and it was in that moment that I realized John's mistake. "Thank you for volunteering! Come hold our little Lost Girl down for me." He gave one of my shoulders a firm pat, and it felt like a gavel falling, sealing my fate.

But John didn't move. He stood tall, his shoulders back and his chin high despite his trembling hands. I watched Peter lock eyes with him, felt his grip on my shoulders tighten. Then, his fingers wrapped around my upper arm as he pulled me to my feet and dragged me over to John so they could stand toe to toe.

"Do it," Peter hissed. "Or I'll punish you too."

"She didn't know," John hissed back, but I could hear the waver in his voice.

"She would have if she had stayed put this morning. Now—" Peter's nails dug into my skin and I grimaced, "—do it."

It took several long moments for John to wrap his hand around my upper arm, and when his clammy hands locked in place, it felt like betrayal. I screamed as I tried to pull away, tried to get free, but John's grasp was firm. He spun me as I tried to kick at him, his arms wrapping their way around my chest as he pinned my arms to my sides. He guided me onto the jungle floor, his face hard as stone, his eyes glazed over as he tried to block out my pleading.

Once we were on the ground, two of the older lost boys stepped forward, each one pinning one of my flailing legs down to the ground as Peter sneered, his eyes twinkling as I struggled to get free. I recognized one of them as the boy with the belt of knives that helped bring me to Peter in Fairedge, and I felt my anger flare.

My spit hit the corner of his eye and he recoiled. He called me a filthy name as John's hand covered my mouth. Then, in a flash of silver, he grabbed one of his knives and dragged the blade over the side of my leg.

Fire ignited wherever the blade touched, and I felt a wave of nausea as I watched red bloom through my trousers. My scream tore up my throat but was muffled by John's hand.

"Easy, Benj," the other boy said, and the boy with the belt of knives took a steadying breath before returning his hold to my leg.

"Benj," Peter's voice was dripping with amusement as his eyes danced across my face, "hand me a knife. We're gonna make sure our little Lost Girl doesn't go running away again."

I screamed as Benj handed Peter a glittering knife, the blade thin and sharp. I screamed as Peter slid the boots and socks from my feet, as he inched the blade closer and closer to my skin.

But I screamed the loudest when he dragged the blade slowly across the bottoms of my feet and in between each of my toes, slicing them to ribbons.


	7. Chapter 7

I stared blankly into the fire as I tried to ignore the throbbing pain in each of my feet and my upper thigh, but it was proving difficult. With each _thu-thump_ of my heart, I could feel my shredded skin strain against the tight make-shift bandages.

 _Thu-thump._ I tensed.

 _Thu-thump_. I bit the inside of my cheek.

 _Thu-thump_. I ground my teeth together until my jaw hurt.

 _Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump._

Peter had slipped away into the jungle after ordering one of the young boys to bandage me up, and I couldn't help but hope he fell into a hole and would die of starvation.

Anger stirred low in my gut as my gaze fell on the Lost Boys that were gathered around the fire. They were too busy stuffing their faces with food to pay me any attention, food that Peter decided I couldn't have tonight as part of my punishment.

But I wasn't hungry. My anger kept my belly full.

Some of the younger boys stole glances at me when they thought I wasn't looking, their eyes were wide with fear as they glanced at me, taking in my face, my thigh, and my bandaged feet. The anger in my belly made it hard not to lash out at them, but I knew it wasn't their fault. They hadn't been the ones to hold me down. They weren't the ones who put a blade to my skin.

That was Peter. That was Benj. That was—

"How're you feeling?"

John.

I flinched despite myself and curled myself away from him as he crouched beside me. I hadn't spoken to him, and I didn't plan to. As far as I was concerned, he was no better than Peter or any of the Lost Boys for what he did to me. For what he allowed to be done to me.

Much to my annoyance, my lack of an answer didn't deter John. Instead, he crawled over to where my feet were stretched out before me and reached for them. "Let me change your bandages," he said quietly, but before he could touch me, I jerked away. As my heels scraped across the ground, pain and fire exploded across my skin and tears sprang to my eyes. I sucked in a breath but bit my tongue before I could cry out. My nails dug into the earth and I tried to focus on the cool, moist dirt instead of the shattered nerves of my feet.

As I ducked my head to blink back tears, I heard John sigh. "Holly, let me just—"

"Don't. Touch. Me," I hissed, my head snapping up so I could meet John's eyes. I watched him flinch, and my anger was temporarily replaced by triumph as a few of the boys paused in their eating to watch us with curious eyes.

One of the Lost Boys, the burly one with the club, let out a low whistle. "Careful, John. She might bite."

"Shut your mouth, Lester," John snapped, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder.

Lester's face flushed red and his lip pulled back over his teeth in a snarl. "Why don't you make me, _Your Highness."_

As John and Lester surged to their feet, murder glinting in their eyes, Peter's voice floated up behind me. "No need to get nasty, boys. Especially not in front of the lady." All eyes turned to watch as he stepped through the trees, a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes as he scanned the camp. No one argued. After shooting John one last glare, Lester took his seat on a stump and shoved another piece of wild boar into his mouth, smacking his jaws for the whole camp to see.

When John turned back to face me with pleading eyes, I averted my gaze. I didn't want his help. I didn't _need_ his help.

"Once everyone is finished with dinner," Peter chimed as he helped himself to some of the wild boar, "I thought we could all play a game. The weather's perfect for some hide and seek."

Most of the boys cheered, but even I wasn't the only one who looked looked like they were terrified. A few of the smaller boys were pale, and they left their dinner all but forgotten for the older boys to gobble down. No one wasted any time disappearing to their tents to prepare. Despite being angry with him, my eyes shot up to lock with John's. He had blanched, his eyes slowly sliding down over my bandaged leg and to each of my bandaged feet. Judging by his tight lips and nervous fidgeting, I was in trouble.

"What do you think, Sweetheart?" Peter asked as he peered down at me. A knot formed in my throat, rendering me silent. Peter must have sensed my panic because his eyes slowly found my bandaged feet.

But instead of pity, his eyes flashed with something else. Something dangerous. When his eyes crept back up to mine, he smiled.

"Hide and seek is going to be quite challenging for you this go-around, Sweetheart."

John turned to Peter with fire in his eyes. "Pan—"

"Shut up," Peter snapped, and John's mouth snapped shut. By the way he flexed his jaw, I knew he was trying not to say something that would get him into trouble. His nostrils flared as he took deep, even breaths, but Peter had morphed into the picture of calm. He was smiling, his eyes twinkling with twisted glee as he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of meat.

"She doesn't know how to play. She doesn't know the rules." John ground out as he pointed a finger at me.

Pan scoffed. "If it bothers you that much, just show her the ropes yourself." Pan shrugged. "It makes no difference to me."

For a moment, I wasn't sure Peter's answer was going to be enough for John. He remained tall and stiff, his shoulders back and the tendons in his neck bulging as he stared down Peter. But then, very slowly, he nodded.

"Alright," John said. "I'll show her—"

"No."

Pan and John's eyes turned to me, each one wearing a different expression. Pan was amused, his eyebrows arched and his smile lopsided as he studied me. John was livid, his face flushed crimson and his eyes blazing with blue fire. My gut churned and my feet screamed in protest as I slowly got to my feet. I tilted my chin up in defiance as I stared down my brother, grinding my teeth together as I felt the long cut on my thigh strain against the bandage. "I don't need your help. I can play just fine."

"Like hell," John growled, his eyes never leaving my face. I was prepared to argue, but Pan stepped between John and I, effectively blocking me from John's view as his eyes found mine.

"I think that settles it then," Peter said as he traced my cheek with his thumb. I would have pulled away, but I was sure I might collapse if I moved my feet. Pride shined in Peter's eyes as he looked at me, and I felt a strange fluttering in my chest. Then, he turned to look over his shoulder at John. "Get what you need, Johnny Boy. I'd like a moment alone with Holly to explain the rules." After John stormed away, Peter turned back to me with a chuckle. "It's quite bold to play your first game of hide and seek alone," Peter stated as he put his hands in his pockets and rocked onto the balls of his feet. "Or foolish," he stated as an afterthought.

"What are the rules?" I asked, not wanting to talk about just how foolish I was being by declining John's help. I already knew, but I wasn't about to admit I was wrong now.

Peter cocked his head to one side, studying me. My feet itched to move, but I willed them to stay still. There would be time to move, and I wanted to save as much energy as I possibly could.

"There's only one rule, Sweetheart," Peter's voice dropped to a whisper. He took a step towards me, close enough now that I could feel the heat of him and smell the mixture of jungle and sweat on him. "Don't get found. And if you're about to be found," he leaned down to whisper in my ear, "run. Run and pray they don't catch you."


	8. Chapter 8

_Don't get caught. Don't get caught. Don't get caught._

It was the mantra that I repeated in my head as I picked my way through the jungle, the light of the falling sun leaving most spots quilted in shadow. It would be dark soon, I realized, and if I didn't find a hiding spot by then, I would surly be found before everyone else.

Peter had explained that we had until dark before Benj and Lester began to seek us out. And, by the terrified looks on some of the boy's faces, Benj and Lester were _good_ at hide and seek. Lester had flashed a sinister smile as he polished his bloodstained club with a dirty rag and the Benj's eyes glinted as he polished a few of his knives. They _knew_ they were good.

 _I can do this,_ I tried convincing myself as I stood, careful to keep my face composed when the pain threatened to make me vomit. _I can do this._

With each step I took though, I knew that I didn't stand a chance. Pain shot up my leg with every step, and I could feel the sticky warmth of blood seeping through my bandages and soaking the moccasins that Peter had made me wear.

"It'll keep your steps silent," he had said as if he was revealing the secret to help me win the game. But what good were silent steps if the rest of me wasn't quiet?

I stumbled through some branches that tugged at my clothes and hair, hissing at the sting as one slashed across my cheek. It was as though the pain in my feet and my leg amplified everything else, every little discomfort. I bit back a whimper and made a weak choking noise instead. It wasn't loud by any means, but in the quiet jungle, it sounded amplified.

 _Here I am! Come find me!,_ I seemed to scream as I tripped and fell, landing with a loud _humph!_

Pain blossomed behind my ribcage as I collided with a large root, a terrible cracking sound filling my ears and making me gasp. Tears sprang to my eyes as I curled in on myself, but as I did so, my thigh screamed in protest.

A cut up thigh on one side, possibly broken ribs on the other. Not to mention shredded feet. Wonderful.

I hissed as I pushed myself into a sitting position, my entire body screaming at me to stop, please stop, but I knew that staying in one spot, especially in the open, would be worse for me in the end than trying to hide.

Using my hands, I pushed myself backwards, dragging my feet as I tried to find solace in the rotted center of a large tree. It wasn't the best hiding spot, but surly the boys weren't looking at every tree as they went. They would never find anyone that way. I hoped.

At one point, I had to stop and take a deep breath. When I craned my neck back to look up at the sky to see how much time I had, I felt my heart sink.

The sun was gone, replaced by the light of the moon and a splash of stars. The game had started.

Then I heard it. Someone running, their steps light and almost silent. The occasional snap of a branch.

 _"If you're about to be found,"_ Peter's voice rang loud in my ears, " _run. Run and pray they don't catch you."_

But I couldn't run. I couldn't.

What would happen to me if I was found? Peter never said.

My mind quickly snapped back to Lester polishing his club and Benj polishing his knives, and I quickly determined that whatever was to happen to me, it wasn't good. In fact, it was probably going to be painful.

My heart hammered so loud that I was sure it would give me away. As quietly as I could, I tried to fold myself into the rotted center of the tree, but it proved difficult with my ribs and my leg and my feet. Sweat dotted my brow and I had to put my fist in my mouth to keep from making a sound.

My right leg didn't seem to want to move at all, and I finally had to carefully bend forward, grab my foot, and jerk it towards me. The white hot pain almost made me pass out, but I forced myself to take long, even breaths and focus on my breathing instead of the pain.

I wiped at my brow, my skin feverish under my fingertips, but I stopped short when I felt something wet. Pulling my hand back slowly, the light of the moon revealed that my hand was covered in crimson.

Blood.

 _My_ blood.

I sucked in a breath as my stomach lurched, nausea threatening to overcome me as I wiped my hands frantically on the cotton of my shirt. But I had forgotten that my shirt was white, and the crimson, although no longer covering my hands, smeared in ugly steaks across my shirt.

Hysteria rose in my throat as I began to cry, the pain suddenly overwhelming as I shuddered.

 _This is it,_ I thought as the footsteps drew closer. _They're going to find me._

When the shadow stepped out of the trees, I held my breath and prayed they wouldn't look to their left. I was too scared to close my eyes, so I kept my eyes wide open, ready to stare down the Lost Boy that had stumbled across me.

But when the shadow stepped into the moonlight, I realized that it wasn't a Lost Boy at all.

The raven-haired girl's dark eyes met mine, and she gave me a smile. There was a small gap in between her front teeth that I hadn't noticed before. Relief flushed through me as I let go of the breath I had been holding. I let my head fall back against the tree and tried my best to return her smile, but I felt so strung out that I couldn't muster it.

Silently, the girl made her way over to kneel in front of my hiding spot. Her eyes swept over me once before she met my eyes again.

"Can you walk?" she asked, her face unreadable. Even though I was pretty sure I couldn't, I nodded. "Good," she said as she stood and held out a hand to me. "Let's go. The seekers aren't far behind you and we need to make sure you're hidden."

I took her hand and she yanked me to my feet. The pain made me dizzy, but I pushed it down.

The raven-haired girl's brows furrowed as she watched me, her hands cupping my elbows in an attempt to help me find some balance and support. "He's done a number on you," she stated quietly, and I nodded. I didn't need to ask who she meant. Her lips turned down in a frown and her eyes grew thoughtful before she stated, "He wasn't always this way."

"So I keep hearing." The words were sharp, dripping with distaste, but the girl seemed unfazed by my attitude. Instead, she gave an apologetic smile and wrapped one arm around my waist and guided one of my arms across her shoulders. I winced as the pain in my ribs ripped through me, and she whispered a quick apology before we started our steady march forward.

We hadn't made it very far before I heard my name, and we both froze. When it came again, I realized that I recognized the voice.

John.

"Holly!" he half whispered, half shouted.

"John!" I echoed him, and soon I could hear him barreling through the shrubs and trees. His steps weren't silent, and I wondered if Lester and Benj could hear him from wherever they were.

I was vaguely aware of the raven-haired girl pulling away, and when I turned to look at her, she was backing away into the shadows.

"Wait," I whispered. "It's just my brother. It's okay."

She shook her head. "He can't see me. He'll tell, and we aren't safe if he tells."

I shook my head and limped towards her, but she continued to back away. "He won't tell. He won't."

"Don't tell him, Holly," the girl pleaded, her eyes hard as she shifted on her feet, ready to run. "You can't trust him. Not like you want to. Not anymore."

Anger reared up quicker than I thought possible, but it quickly faded. She was right, of course, but he was still my _brother._

"You can't trust him, Holly," she repeated. "You can't trust any of them."

"Then who _can_ I trust?" I demanded.

"Me," she stated simply. "Trust me. And Thomas. Trust Thomas."

It felt as though she had slapped me. Trust Hook? Trust the man who gave me up instead of fighting for me? Trust him?

No. I would never trust him again.

And before I could open my mouth to tell her so, there was the sound of breaking branches at my back as someone barreled through them. When I looked back to tell the raven-haired girl to stay, she was gone. There was no shadow making its way through the trees. It was like she disappeared into thin air.

I realized then that I didn't know her name.

When I turned, there stood John, drenched in sweat, his hair and eyes wild as he grasped a staff in his hand. His trousers and shirt were torn, and he had a deep gasp on his cheek that was bleeding slightly.

"John—"

"We need to move," he ordered as he closed the space between us. "Benj isn't far behind me. We have to lose him."

My heart seized as I thought about the boy with the belt of knives, and the cut on my thigh burned like it knew how close he was. I swallowed hard and nodded.

"Can you run?" John asked, his eyes taking in my bloodied shirt and torn clothes. Before I had a chance to answer, John shook his head. "Come on," he urged as he turned and knelt down on one knee. "Up you go."

In any other situation, I probably would have laughed at him. It had been years since John carried me on his back.

But I wasn't laughing, and I certainly wasn't going to waste anymore time. I took the few painful steps to John before wrapping my arms gingerly around his neck. When John surged to his feet, my ribs felt as though they were stretching too far apart, and I bit back a whimper. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around John's waist as tight as my aching body would allow.

"Ready?" he asked, and I nodded.

To my surprise, even with me on his back, John was quite quick. He seemed to be using his walking stick as a tool to test dips and rises in the ground in order to avoid stumbling and sending both of us sprawling, but I couldn't help but wonder if he used it as a weapon when needed.

After traveling a while in silence, John stopped in the middle of a particularly thick part of the jungle. He helped me slide from his back, and told me to rest.

The air was thick, and we were both drenched in sweat. The salty water on my skin seeped into my scratches and cuts, causing me to cringe.

The canopy above of us was so thick, I couldn't see the sky. No moonlight cut down to the jungle floor, and everything around us looked like one, large shadow. I could hardly make out John as he stood watch.

"Are we safe?" I whispered, my muscles coiled tight.

A moment of silence. Then, "I think so."

I sighed in relief and let my body relax. I stretched my legs out in front of me and felt each heartbeat as it pumped blood through my veins. I would hurt tomorrow. There was no doubt about that.

"You thought wrong," came a voice that wasn't John's, and I heard John swear.

"Holly, run!" John shouted at me. I did as he said, instantly clamoring to my feet. A wave of adrenaline crashed over me, temporarily numbing the pain, but before I could even take my first step to run, to get as far away from here as I possibly could, a hand tangled in my hair and gave a sharp tug back, exposing my neck to the cool feel of a blade at my throat.

"Don't move," Benj ordered, his hot breath fanning over my face. I did as he said, my heart hammering in my chest as my breath came in short gasps.

"Let her go, Benj," John said.

"I don't think so," Benj replied, pulling me farther away from John. "You know how this game works, John. She was found and she was caught. She loses. And so do you," Benj added with a smirk.

John's pause was enough time for a large, burly shadow to appear behind him and raise its club.

Lester.

I opened my mouth to shout at John, to warn him, but it was too late. Lester brought down his club, and with a sickening _thump_ , John fell to the jungle floor.

"John!" I screamed. Tears burned behind my eyes and my stomach curled at the sight of John lying lifeless and unmoving on the ground. In the dark, I couldn't tell if he was breathing, and that made the panic all that much worse. "John!"

"Shut up!" Lester spat, raising his club threateningly at me. "I'm not afraid to knock you over the head too."

"I might let you," Benj stated, and I felt my blood run cold.

"Give 'er here then," Lester said, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

Benj was silent as he thought it over. "Nah," he finally said, and Lester grumbled. "Let's just get them back to camp. Let Pan deal with them."

"He's not going to be happy," Lester sing-songed with a sneer as he locked eyes with me, and I had the sinking feeling that he wasn't lying.


	9. Chapter 9

Lester dragged John along the jungle floor by his collar. As John's feet and hands dragged, his head rolled from side to side. He still looked dead, but in the light of the moon, I could see his chest rising and falling.

Benj walked behind me, a blade at my back and John's staff in his other hand. The adrenaline had begun to wear off, and my knees began to buckle more and more frequently as we walked. I could feel the warm slick of blood in my moccasins and I was certain the gash on my thigh had reopened.

I was slowing down considerably, and I expected Benj to be cruel, to poke me in the back with his blade to make me walk faster. But instead, he dropped his voice to a whisper as he asked, "You alright?"

"What do you care?" I snapped as my right knee buckled and I stumbled. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact and the blinding pain that was sure to swallow me, but it didn't come. Benj had dropped John's walking stick and wrapped his arm around my waist to steady me, and while I was grateful, I couldn't figure out why he would do it.

"I don't care," he stated, letting me go. "I just don't understand how you're still standing."

"I'm hardly standing," I quipped, sarcasm coating my words. I started walking again, praying that my legs would hold out long enough to just get me back to camp. "No thanks to you," I added, and Benj barked a laugh.

"You spit in my face!"

I whirled on him so fast that he almost ran into me. "You were holding me down while Peter cut my feet to ribbons!"

Benj opened his mouth to retort, but he was interrupted by Lester shouting at us to keep up and that if I was giving Benj any trouble that he would make good use of his club. I didn't want to give him a reason to, so I turned and limped on my way.

The knife blade was pressing into my back again, and Benj remained silent until we were on the outskirts of camp. Then, he stopped me, his mouth coming to rest beside my ear. "I did what I had to do to stay alive. On this island, Peter calls the shots. If you don't follow Peter, well… You'll understand someday."

There was no threat in his words, only promise, and it made me shiver.

"Well, well, well," Peter's voice sent another shiver through me as we stepped into camp. "What do we have here?"

His emerald eyes were glued to John, who was starting to stir. Lester seized John by his collar again and drug him to his feet. John swayed dangerously, and Peter's smile grew.

"I must say that I'm disappointed, John," Peter said, taking a step closer to my brother. John didn't answer, just swayed on his feet as he fought to stay conscious. A large lump had formed on the back of his head where Lester's club had met its mark.

Then, in the time it took me to blink, Peter's smile fell into a scowl, and his curled fist struck out, connecting with John's stomach. John grunted and curled in on himself, falling to his knees.

"John!" I took a step forward to help my brother, to comfort him in any way I could, but when Peter's eyes shot up and found mine, I froze. He looked feral, dangerous.

"And _you,"_ he hissed as he let go of John's collar and stalked towards me. "I _told you_ not to get caught. That was the _rule!_ There was only. One. _Rule!"_

Words failed me as Peter snatched my wrist in a painful grip and yanked me forward. My footing was no good, and I stumbled, landing on my knees in front of him before he yanked me to my feet again. My shoulder muscles strained, and I worried they would tear away from the bone if Peter gave another tug.

"How could you lose with only one bloody rule?" Peter shouted, his face only inches from mine. Spit hit my face, and I tried to pull away, to recoil to some sort of safety, but Peter only became angrier. His cheeks were crimson and his eyes were full of green fire as a shadow rippled across his skin, casting his features in a kind of darkness that made my blood run cold. "Answer me!" he demanded, his voice ringing in my ears.

But whatever excuse I had died in my throat. Not only was I petrified, but I was convinced that no matter what answer I gave him, it wouldn't be enough. I could not win. There was no answer I could give that wouldn't send Peter spiraling out of control.

"I said—" Peter forced me to the ground before bringing his left hand to rest on my leg, his fingers brushing the gash that Benj had given me, "—answer me."

And then he was digging his fingers into my leg, his fingers sliding into the gash and causing dark spots to explode across my vision. A scream ripped through my throat, high pitched and raw and pure agony.

My hand gripped his wrist and I tried to yank his hand away, but he only curled his fingers, anchoring himself as blood pooled around his fingers.

"Peter," I gasped. "Please! _Please!"_ The edges of my vision were rimmed in black, and the darkness was slowly closing in. But still, Peter squeezed harder, sending new bolts of pain through my body.

Just as I was sure I was going to slip away into the darkness, Peter finally relinquished his grip on my leg. Relief washed over me like a tidal wave, but the pain didn't vanish. My leg felt as though it were full of lead, and it was mostly numb except for the throbbing that danced around the gash where Peter had dug in his fingers.

My breath came in quick gasps as sweat dripped into my eyes and beaded my upper lip. My mouth was dry, my tongue heavy. I didn't dare look at Peter's hand or my leg. I didn't want to know the damage just yet. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, determined not to look.

"Let's round up the boys," Peter quipped, his voice thick with anger. "Tell them the game's over." Lester and Benj didn't argue, and I heard their footsteps retreat as they disappeared into the jungle. "I'll deal with you two when I get back," Peter promised before he too disappeared.

I kept my eyes shut tight long after they had gone, and I shook with both fear and a strange chill.

"Holly," John's raspy voice brushed over me like a strange comfort. "Holly, look at me." I did as he said, and came face to face with my big brother. He had our father's eyes, blue like the sky. I hadn't realized how long his hair had gotten. It hung in shaggy curls around his face and down the back of his neck. Purple bags puffed up angry beneath his eyes, and he had a silver scar that sliced one of his eyebrows in two. His nose was crooked, and I wondered how many times he had been slugged in order to make it look like that.

I suddenly felt lightheaded. A wave of cold washed over me and made me shiver, the beads of sweat turning to ice as a large boulder settled in my stomach.

John's eyes darted to my leg. "You're losing blood," he stated and slipped his shirt over his head. His words should have been alarming, but it was as though they couldn't quite sink in. They brushed my ears and then fluttered away. The world was blurring at the edges, and my head, light as a feather, somehow still felt too heavy for my shoulders.

I gasped in pain when he tied his shirt around my leg and pulled tight.

"Sorry," he muttered, the muscles in his shoulders and back rolling as he tried to tighten his makeshift bandage. He continued to fuss, but I was no longer focussed on the throbbing pain. I was focussed on Peter's parting words.

"John—" I swallowed "—what's going to happen to us when they get back?"

His hands faltered in his work, and he wouldn't look at me. "I don't know," he sighed, and in that moment, he looked beyond exhausted— like his four years with Peter and the Lost Boys was more like four hundred. "Peter's unpredictable," he said. "There's no telling how angry he'll still be when he gets back."

I closed my eyes again, craning my head towards the sky in a prayer to whatever god would listen. _Please, don't let him be angry,_ I prayed. _Please._

I would soon come to find out that the gods above had no interest in helping me. In fact, I was convinced they weren't up there at all.

John and I were on our own.

###

"Get up," Peter barked when he and the Lost Boys strode back into camp. I startled. I must have dozed off at some point because the sky was beginning to change color, a sign that morning was on its way. Deep blue replaced the thick black, but even the promise of morning was no comfort. The pale moon stared down at me still, and I wondered how many times it looked down on this island and all the terrible things that happened here, or if it looked at all. If I were the moon, I would turn away.

My limbs felt heavy as I tried to stand, my body now in a constant state of pain. By some miracle, I stood, swaying dangerously as I tried to keep my head up. I was so thirsty and so, so tired.

The Lost Boys gathered around the edge of camp as Peter strode towards John and I. Judging by the hard line of his lips and the brightness in his eyes, Peter was still very, _very_ angry.

The younger boys looked scared and I felt my stomach drop as a few of the older boys smiled. This was fun for them, and I had a feeling the really fun part hadn't even started yet.

"Seeing as you both were the first ones to be found," Peter said as his eyes slid between John and I, "I think it's only fair that you both be punished for it." I heard some of the boys snicker and agree. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited to see how this turns out," Peter said, a hint of a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.

I bit my cheek, determined not to cry despite the hysteria that threatened to drown me.

"Grab your staff, Johnny Boy," Peter ordered before he turned his back and motioned for an older Lost Boy to hand him his own walking stick. Then, he turned and held the stick out for me to take. I stared at it, unsure what to do.

"She's in no shape to do this, Pan," John insisted, his voice wavering as he watched me take the stick from Peter.

Peter only shrugged. "Then she should have found a better hiding spot. And _you_ shouldn't have tried to help her."

"I won't do this," he growled.

"You _will,"_ Peter insisted, his patience slipping. "Unless you'd rather me be the one to carry out the punishment?"

John's knuckles went white as he gripped his staff, and I knew that Peter carrying out whatever was to come would be much worse than if John did. He met my eyes, silently pleading with me to understand. I shook my head. I didn't care if Peter hurt me; he already had done that plenty. But if John hurt me again…

I didn't care if Peter told him to do it. I wanted John to defy Peter, to take my side. But as John took his stick in both hands and widened his stance, I realized he wouldn't defy Peter, not even for me.

"John," I tried to plead, but he only shook his head.

"Staff up, Holly," he said, his voice cold. His eyes no longer reminded me of our father's, gentle and kind. A shadow rippled across him, darkening his eyes and his hair. I had seen it before in Peter and in Hook.

I would not win.

I shook my head. "N-No."

"Staff up."

"No! No, I won't—"

John took a step forward and drove his staff into the ribs that had collided with the tree root. The pain was like a crack of lightening; I could feel it tingling in the tips of my fingers as I stumbled away.

"Staff up."

"No!"

He swung his stick in a wide arch and brought it down on my shoulder. The force knocked me to my knees, dark spots dancing across my vision as the pain threatened to pull me under.

"I'd start fighting back, Sweetheart." Peter's voice sounded far away in my ears, and when I turned my head to try and see him, all I could see was the ocean of faces that belonged to the Lost Boys.

John backed away, giving me some room as I hauled myself to my feet, leaning heavily on the staff that I was supposed to be using as a weapon. I hardly had time to lift the staff before John brought his down again, aiming for my other shoulder.

By some miracle, I blocked him, the force of his swing making my bones rattle. But John was quick, and while I blocked his first shot, I left my middle exposed. He took his chance, running the end of his stick into the spot just below where my ribs met.

The breath whooshed out of me as I dropped my staff and doubled over. I heard John's staff cut through the air before he landed a blow to my spine, knocking me to the jungle floor.

"John," I gasped as I tried to fill my lungs, "stop!"

But John didn't stop. Blow after blow landed on my back, my legs, my shoulders. I tried reaching for my stick, but he landed a blow to my wrist before I even touched the wood. Lightening shot up my arm and I prayed it wasn't broken as I let out an ear-splitting scream that made a few of the younger boys jump.

I cradled my wrist and curled in on myself. I couldn't fight him, not like this. Not at all.

So I did the only thing I could do. I tried to wait it out. But now that John had started, I wasn't sure he was going to. Each strike sent a new jolt of pain through my every nerve, and when I couldn't take it anymore, I begged him to end it.

"Just kill me!" I screamed through a mouth full of blood, and I saw John hesitate. The shadow vanished, and I was looking at my brother again, eyes shining bright with unshed tears. "Do it!"

John shook his head, his staff still gripped tightly in his hands as he stared down at me.

Anger turned to rage as I reeled my head back and spit at his feet. The blood hit his moccasins. "Coward," I hissed, but even as I said it, betrayal and sadness washed out the anger and I was crying again. I hurt all over, no part of me left untouched by Peter, by Benj. By my brother. "Coward!"

A heavy silence settled between us that even the Lost Boys didn't seem eager to break.

"Now _that_ was something to see." Peter sounded impressed. "I didn't think you had it in you, Johnny Boy."

John was silent, his eyes wide with horror as he looked between me and his staff. It was the first time I noticed that my blood coated the ends that he had struck me with, and I wondered briefly if I was as bloody as the stick.

When Peter scooped me into his arms, the pain made my world tilt sideways, but I was so exhausted that I could hardly make a sound. Without a word, Peter started to carry me back to his tent, whispering that he would get me patched up. The Lost Boys were silent, and when I lifted my heavy head and peeked over Peter's shoulder, I saw that most of them were pale, their lips pressed into hard lines. They had doubted John and his ability to turn on his own family. I had too, and that had been a huge mistake.

 _"You can't trust him,"_ the raven-haired girl's voice rose in my mind. " _Not like you want to. Not anymore."_

Her words rang loud as I watched John drop his staff and look at his hands. Even as the flap of Peter's tent fell behind us, I could see my brother's hands shaking.

He felt terrible, but I felt nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

The soft furs of Peter's bed felt like heaven under my fingertips, and I longed to sink into them and sleep forever. My eyelids began to droop as the warmth of Peter's tent caressed me, and I could feel myself begin to slip off the edge between the waking world and the sleeping one, but as my chin dropped against my chest, I jerked awake, my heart feeling as though it was going to burst out of my chest.

I looked over at Peter, sure that he was going to catch me dozing again and punish me like he had in the days since my failed attempt at hide-and-seek, but his eyes were still trained on the parchment map in front of him, his brows drawn together in concentration.

It had been three days since I last slept, and even longer since I'd eaten anything. Every time my stomach growled, it was hard not to double over with stomach cramps. If I could have fallen asleep, it would have been bearable, but then Peter would bring down a harsh slap on my back or down on my thigh and I'd be wide awake again for a fleeting moment.

He must have felt my gaze because he looked up at me then. I didn't look away quickly enough, and soon Peter was standing and making his way over to me, a smirk on his face.

Peter plopped down beside me and seemed to study me, his eyes dancing across my tired features. It was hard to lift my chin to meet his gaze, and as I did so, his face came and went out of focus. He was blurred around the edges like something out of a dream, and as he spoke to me, his voice sounded far away.

"How's my little lost girl?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

My tongue was heavy and it was hard to move my lips. "Fine," I managed. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of me being anything else. I didn't have the energy to argue the nickname; that one word took more energy out of me than I cared to admit.

His eyes hardened, but his smile didn't falter as his fingers brushed against my bandaged thigh. "You sure about that, Sweetheart? Because you look pretty terrible to me."

My fingers curled into the furs of the bed as his hand settled just over the spot where my badges covered Benj's cut. The rest of my body was healing nicely,the deep purples of my bruises fading to yellow around the edges and the open skin of my feet and my back and wherever else John's staff had broken skin was scabbed over and hadn't bled in days, but the cut along my thigh would take longer to heal. It was Peter's favorite spot to slap or dig his fingers into, and sometimes, just as I was sure it was starting to really heal, Peter would find a reason to reopen it.

"Tired," I slurred as I fought to keep my eyes open.

Peter's eyes softened as I said this, and before I knew what he was doing, he was pushing me down onto the soft furs, his fingers running through my hair as he stared down at me.

"Sleep," is all I heard before I slipped into blackness.

###

I woke to the sharp, splitting pain of stomach cramps and a wave of nausea that made the tent spin above me. I pressed a fist to my middle as I rolled to my side and tried to take deep breaths, but my insides longed to feel full, and the thick air of the jungle wasn't cutting it.

I needed food. I would beg if that's what it took.

Light poured in the tent through the front flap, which had been pulled back and secured with rope. The brightness caused me to squint, a sharp pain pounding in my temples as I stood on uneasy legs.

How long had I been asleep? A few minutes? A few hours? An entire day? It was impossible to tell. As I stumbled out of the tent, I craned my head to look up at the sky to try and determine if the sun had moved, but I was overcome with another wave of nausea and I felt my legs buckle as I fell.

A pair of arms wrapped around me, catching me before I hit the jungle floor. "Easy there, Sweetheart," Peter's voice filled my ears as he helped me sit. His face eclipsed the sun as I looked up at him, his lips pressed together and his brows knitted in concern. "You alright?"

I shook my head as another stomach cramp washed over me. I doubled over, a whimper passing through my dry, cracked lips as I tried to focus on breathing. "Hungry." The word came out breathy and desperate as I ground my teeth together painfully to keep from crying. My heart was pounding too hard, too fast and I was beginning to wonder if I was to die this way: hungry and tired and miserable. The thoughts did nothing to help my racing heart, and I soon found myself gasping for air.

"Deep breaths, Sweetheart," Peter encouraged me. "Take deep breaths." His thumbs brushed across my cheekbones in a rhythm that helped me focus on my breathing and steadying my hammering heart, and the more under control my breathing became, the more he praised me. "That's it," he'd whisper, pressing a kiss to my feverish forehead. "You're just fine, Sweetheart. Just fine." Then, he pressed his forehead against mine and told me that he was going to take good care of me.

I'm not sure how long we stayed that way— Peter's forehead resting against mine, his hands covering mine as my stomach cramps subsided and my heartbeat returned to normal— but it was long enough for me to think that Peter's gentle behavior couldn't last. It just couldn't. Because that's not how Peter was.

But even so, I couldn't help but be relieved that he was being gentle _now_ , when I was sure that I would break at any moment.

"Wait here," Peter told me as he got to his feet and disappeared into the tent where the Lost Boys stored food and water. I did as he said, unable to do much else, and soon Peter emerged from the tent with a wooden bowl half-full of berries.

Instinctively, I reached for the bowl, but Peter only shook his head as he pulled it into himself.

"You've got to eat slow," he said as he sank down beside me, careful not to spill a single berry onto the ground. "If you eat too fast, you'll be sick. Here—" he picked up a berry and held it up to me, "— I'll feed you."

I stared at him apprehensively, but Peter only gave me a reassuring smile. Slowly, I leaned in, and he pressed the berry past my lips and set it gently on my tongue. The berry was sweet as it popped between my teeth, causing my mouth to water excessively, and I couldn't help but want more. My eyes fluttered shut as I tried to savor the flavor, tried to memorize the way it tasted as it exploded on my tongue and coated the insides of my cheeks. I made an appreciative noise that sounded like a moan. Peter chuckled, and I flushed crimson.

Peter watched silently, feeding me berry after berry with a soft smile and kind eyes. Little by little, my stomach cramps, along with my hunger, seemed to disappear. At least for the time being.

After consuming what I could only assume was a couple of handfuls of berries, Peter set the bowl aside and stood again, claiming that he was going to fetch me some water. "You've hardly had any since you arrived," he said as he wiped his hands on the front of his trousers. I didn't dare tell him that he was the reason why I hadn't had any water.

As Peter turned away, my eyes fell on the bowl of berries. There was only half a handful left. My stomach growled, still hungry for more. I stole a glance at Peter, but he had already disappeared. _I have time,_ I thought as I reached out for another handful of the delicious berries. I wasn't sure why I felt the need to sneak; Peter was sure to feed me more when he returned.

I yelped when Peter's fingers curled around my wrist.

"Greedy little sneak, aren't you?" he asked, acid dripping off his tongue. My eyes darted up to look at him, and I was met with hard eyes. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, and I knew from the sinking feeling in my gut that Peter's good mood had vanished. All because I couldn't wait for him to return.

I didn't say anything, just let my hand fall into my lap as I ducked my head. But Peter wasn't about to let me off easy. He knelt down next to me and pinched my chin between his fingers, making sure I met his eyes. "If you want to eat again anytime soon, Sweetheart," he threatened, "I suggest you learn how to take what I give you with thanks."

For half a breath, I thought about defying him, thought about pulling my chin from his grip, but the memory of the stomach pains were too fresh. If I could help it, I would never experience them again. This was a part of Peter's game that I'd gladly let him win if it meant I didn't go hungry again.

"Thank you, Peter." I tried to sound sincere in hopes that Peter wouldn't change his mind. Judging by the triumphant smirk that crossed his face, it had worked.

"My pleasure, Sweetheart," he said smugly before popping the rest of the berries into his mouth. Then, Peter got to his feet. "I'm going to see what's taking the boys so long," he stated as he stared down at me. "You're to stay here. If you leave…"

He didn't have to finish his sentence. I knew what would happen if I left. I swallowed the knot that rose in my throat, and I swore that I could taste salt water.

Peter sank down in front of me, balancing on the balls of his feet. "Are you going to be good for me, Holly? Or do I have to remind you what happens when you don't follow the rules?"

"No, Peter," I said, defeated.

"Good," he said with a nod. Then, before I could react, he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, each hand cupping my face as his red curls tickled my face. It was over before I could think of what was happening, the warmth of his soft lips pulling away with him, the smell of rain that always seemed to cling to him filling my nose and making my chest tighten in a way that made me feel sick to my stomach. "Be back soon."

I said nothing as he disappeared into the jungle; I was too busy feeling disgusted with myself, at the fluttering in my chest as I thought about his lips on mine.

"He's confusing, isn't he?"

My eyes snapped to where the raven-haired girl stood at the edge of camp, in the same spot as the day I had followed her to the beach.

The day Peter held me underwater.

The day Peter sliced open my feet with Benj's knife.

And now… what? My stomach was a fluttering mess from a kiss?

My cheeks flushed with shame at the thought of the raven-haired girl witnessing Peter and I's kiss. "I don't think that's the word I'd use," I muttered as I pulled my knees to my chest.

The raven-haired girl took a tentative step into the camp, her eyes scanning the surrounding trees. She seemed to be keeping an eye out for Peter and the Lost Boys even as she came to sit beside me, pulling her knees to her chest just like me.

"Peter's always had terrible mood swings. Thomas was always much more level headed." She said it so casually, but it didn't stop the sharp pain that stabbed my chest. The pain quickly dissolved into anger, and I found myself trying to swallow hysterical laughter.

"I think _Thomas_ —" it was still so hard to say his name, "— has changed a bit since the last time you saw him. He isn't very level headed anymore."

Her gaze burned into me, watching, studying, but I didn't dare look to meet her eyes. If I saw the pity that was sure to be shining in her eyes, my anger would dissolve and I would be left in tears. Unfortunately, the tears were coming anyway, filling my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks before I could turn and hide them. I was so fragile these days.

"You're angry," she stated.

I barked a laugh. "You think?"

Silence.

"He'll come for you," she reassured me softly.

If she was trying to comfort me, she wasn't doing me any favors. I surged to my feet with a speed I didn't realize I possessed in my weakened state. "Why would he?" I spat as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. "He's the one who let me go in the first place!"

She didn't flinch away from my anger. Instead, she stared up at me with soft brown eyes that were so full of warmth that I wondered how Peter and his Lost Boys hadn't destroyed her. "He'll come for you," she repeated, soft yet confident.

"How do you know?" I asked, my voice breaking. She seemed so sure, and I wanted so badly to believe her.

"Because he came for me."

An eerie feeling of recognition washed over me as I stared down at her even though I didn't know her name.

As she stared up at me, her eyes sparkled with a sadness that betrayed the smile on her lips. "Peter made sure he was too late to save me, but it didn't stop him from trying. Even when it was hopeless, he still tried to save me." She paused and swallowed hard, the only hint that she was struggling with her words. "Because he loved me. And he loves _you_ , Holly," she continued even as the eerie feeling of recognition finally made sense. "That's how I know he'll come for you."

I had never met the girl sitting in front of me before I was brought to this god-forsaken place. I had never seen her face or heard her voice before coming here, and yet I knew her. I had heard her name that night in Fairedge. Hook made sure to say it loud and clear.

"Tiger Lily."


	11. Chapter 11

Neither of us said a word as I paced back and forth, my mind racing as it tried to catch up with everything else. Occasionally, my eyes would dart up to meet hers, but I would look away before she had a chance to open her mouth and say something that would unravel my world a little bit farther.

It seemed that Tinkerbelle wasn't the only one walking between the world of the living and the dead, and while the idea wasn't exactly new to me, it was still strange.

"Holly," she sighed before reaching out and wrapping her fingers around my wrist, "stop." I snatched my hand away but stopped my pacing.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" I demanded, anger pumping through my veins. Why couldn't anyone just tell me the truth about who they were?

Tiger Lily squared her shoulders as she met my gaze. "We didn't exactly have time for introductions," she said, sounding exasperated. I scoffed but didn't say anything more. "Forgive me for not wanting to waste any time in trying to help you," she said as she made a frustrated gesture with her hands.

"Help me?" I seethed, anger boiling in my gut. "Help me? The first time I met you, you ran off! And what did following you get me?" I was starting to shout. "I almost drowned and then I got my feet sliced to bloody ribbons!"

My words didn't seem to worry her though. Instead she said, "You needed to remember who you were dealing with."

Her words twisted my gut and caused all the rage to shoot up my throat and burn my mouth. Heat rose in my cheeks as my nails dug into my palms. I itched to reach out and shake her— scream at her— but the words that came out of my mouth were eerily calm, the sort of calm that came in just before a storm roared its loudest. "Don't you dare think for a minute that I will _ever_ forget who I'm dealing with. No matter how much time passes on this island, I will _always_ remember the monster that he is."

It wasn't entirely a lie, but as I said the words, I remembered Peter's lips on mine, and how it didn't make my stomach drop in fear like it had before.

Tiger Lily didn't look convinced. "Time is funny on this island. It has a way of making people forget who they are… Gets people lost."

"I'm not lost," I insisted, desperate to make her believe me. If she believed me, maybe I could believe myself.

"Not yet," she said with a shake of her head. The gleaming sadness in her eyes told me that I wasn't the first to try and put up such an argument. "But Peter is very persuasive." Again, her stare fixed on me as if she were reading my thoughts, and I wondered if she knew about how I felt about Peter's kiss— his full, soft touch as he leaned into me. A blush crept its way across my cheeks and I quickly ducked my head to hide my guilt.

The exhaustion was beginning to leak back into my bones, the heaviness of sleep pulsing behind my eyes as I pressed the heels of my hands into them, pressing so hard I saw bursts of color.

"Don't you want to go home?"

Her question caught me off guard, making it hard to breathe as guilt tied a knot in my chest. I had hardly thought of home the past few days; not because I didn't miss it but because it seemed impossibly out of reach.

"Of course I do," I whispered as I fidgeted with the dirty hem of my shirt. "But…"

"But…?" Tiger Lily prodded, her eyebrows sneaking up her forehead as she watched me.

"But even if I somehow made it off this island without getting caught—" I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, "—Peter would always be somewhere out there looking for me. I couldn't ever go home." Saying the words made my chest tighten, the heavy truth of them like a vice. My voice cracked when I finished with, "Not ever."

"Maybe," Tiger Lily agreed as she gently grabbed my shoulders. The way she said it, like she had some secret, made me look up at her. "But what if Peter wasn't here to chase you? What if he was gone?"

"Gone?" I asked, the word sounding strange as I spoke it. "You mean—"

Tiger Lily nodded, not allowing me to finish my sentence. "Yes. Exactly."

I thought of a world without Peter in it to make up the rules. I thought of never having to hide away in my room once a year, of never losing John. I thought of never having to give Peter and his Lost Boys anything ever again. I thought of all the families that could breathe easier without the threat of Peter taking their children away hanging over their heads. A world with no Peter Pan… Was it even possible? She made it sound so easy.

"How?" I asked, skeptical and not ready to get my hopes up.

Tiger Lily's eyes darted around, searching the jungle for anyone who may be listening in, like she was waiting for Peter himself to step out of the trees. When her eyes met mine again, there was a determination that made me dare to hope. Just a little.

"How?" I asked again, my own hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. My fingers dug into her skin like a lifeline.

"The crocodile," she said simply as one corner of her mouth pulled into a smile. But while her answer seemed to somehow elevate her hope, it shattered mine. "All you have to do is kill the crocodile."

The crocodile. The ever elusive crocodile. The only thing that scared Hook and turned him into a coward— the thing that gave Hook and Pan their endless years of life and unnatural strength— was the only thing standing between me and freedom.

Each year that Peter would return to my home and post his price for another year of peace, the flame of hope in my chest would flicker dangerously, threatening to go out in one swift puff if Peter demanded it. But in the quiet months that would follow his departure, it would remain burning.

All the years I had dared to hope vanished then, the flame gone, carried away on Tiger Lily's words.

I had watched many mothers when they lost their sons to Peter from the safety of my room as I peaked through a slit of a curtain. Their eyes— bright and shining with tears as they begged my father not to let Peter take them away— would dull as they let go of their sons, their hands still outstretched as the Lost Boys would lead them away, folding them amongst their ranks to be molded into monsters. Mothers who once stood proud over their little boys would curl in on themselves, as if Peter had taken their backbones with him. Eventually, their shoulders would slump and their arms would fall limp at their sides defeated before they would sink to the cobblestone. Some screamed as they clawed desperately at the stone under their fingertips, their nails splitting into bloody messes, but most stayed silent. Some never spoke again.

Hopelessness was a sickness, and all those mothers suffered from it. Peter had given it to them. And now, even though she hadn't meant to- I was sure she hadn't meant to- Tiger Lily gave it to me.

"Holly?" Tiger Lily asked quietly, her voice laced with concern. She didn't know what she had done to me.

"I think you should leave." I knew the words were mine, were coming from my mouth, but my voice sounded strange. Breathy, broken, and…

I swallowed.

Lost. Breathy, broken, and lost.

Tiger Lily's brows knitted together as she searched my face for some sort of understanding. "What's wrong?" she asked as she reached for my hand, but I took a step back. Her hand lingered in the air a moment before she returned it to her side. A pained look crossed her face. "I thought you'd be happy," she sounded confused. "You could go home. You and your brother, you could leave!" A cold laugh slipped past my lips as I listened to her. "What?" she demanded, indignant.

"You think I can kill that—" I waved a hand around as I fished for the right word, "—creature all by myself?"

"Of course not! I would never send you off to kill that thing all by yourself." I arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "Thomas will help."

I bit my tongue. Hard. So hard that the coppery taste of blood almost made me want to gag. That name made angry words flutter around my head and threatened to charge out my mouth if I didn't take a deep breath. When I was sure that I wouldn't rip her to pieces for bringing Hook into this, I shook my head. "The day I believe that is the day he steps foot into this camp like a bloody hero."

I expected her to argue, expected her to tell me that I was being childish. Instead, she straightened to her full height and squared her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled with a determination that almost made me nervous. Almost.

"He will. You'll see." But even though her words were spoken clearly and without hesitation, I could see that she wasn't entirely sure herself in the way that she couldn't hold my gaze, and it made me want to smirk, to tell her I was right. I didn't though. If Hook didn't rescue me from this place, no one could— or would— and no small victory over the judgement of his character was worth a lifetime in this place. "He will," she repeated one last time as she took a step towards the jungle, and I wondered if she was saying it to convince me or herself.

"Maybe," I breathed with a weak shrug, my anger simmering until it was nothing but resignation. "But I'm not holding my breath."

I watched her deflate. Her shoulders slumped before she finally turned and disappeared into the thick jungle.

###

Despite my better judgement, in the days that followed Tiger Lily's proclamation, I let myself hope. It wasn't a flame like before, but embers that were just waiting for a breath to ignite them.

In my dreams, I was rescued. The crocodile met its demise. Peter never hurt me again. I went home to my kingdom and lived happily for the rest of my days. And even when I woke up in Peter's tent, in Peter's bed, I pushed aside my doubt.

For weeks, Tiger Lily would visit when she could, usually when she knew that there was no chance that Peter and the Lost Boy would catch us. For weeks, she would reassure me that Hook would help me, would come for me, but with each day that passed and Hook _didn't_ come, I could see her losing faith. She tried to deny it, tried to keep her smile from straining her cheeks, but when her visits became less frequent, I knew that it was over. Many days came and went and I hardly ever saw a trace of her. Then, she stopped visiting all together.

Tiger Lily was too prideful to admit that she was wrong, but her absence was enough.

No one was coming. I was lost to the world now, a Lost Girl, just like Peter wanted. He would be so proud.


	12. Chapter 12

One moment, he was teaching me how to hold a bow, his hand splayed across my stomach as he held me back against him, whispering in my ear to stand up straight. The next, he was lying helpless on the jungle floor, at Peter's mercy.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing you sack of filth?" Peter hissed as he towered over the boy. The older lost boy didn't dare move from his spot on the ground, his eyes wide as he held his hands up in surrender.

"N-Nothing," the boy stammered, his eyes flashing to me before he continued. "I-I was showing her h-how to hold a bow."

Peter kneeled down slowly, furling like a cat about to pounce. The boy watched Peter, not daring to blink while I stood frozen in place, the bow still clutched tightly in my hands. "And did showing her how to use a bow require you being pressed against her?" Peter gripped the front of the boy's shirt. "Did it require you to put your grubby hands all over her?" The boy opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stammered to find the right words. Peter arched an impatient eyebrow. "Well?"

The boy snapped his mouth shut, probably realizing that words wouldn't help him, and shook his head.

Peter's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "That's right."

"I'm sorry, Peter," the boy said, finally finding his voice. "It won't happen again, I swear." His voice cracked on the last two words.

A wolf-like grin spread over Peter's lips, and I felt my heart stumble. A cold fear bloomed in my gut as Peter slowly shook his head. "No," he said, his voice light, "it won't happen again. Do you want to know why?" The boy gulped, and I wondered if his throat felt as dry as mine did. When he couldn't seem to form a proper response, Peter leaned in close. They were nose to nose as Peter stated, "It won't happen again because I'm going to make a good example out of you."

The boy blanched.

The rough wood of the bow dug into my palms as I watched the boy twist away from Peter and attempt to run. But Peter was quicker. Like a snake, his hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around the boy's ankle. He gave a hard tug, and the boy fell to the ground with a thump.

Time seemed to slow down as I watched Peter reach for one of the knives at his belt, bring it up over his head, and bring it down on the tough cord of the boy's heel.

As the boy's scream split the air, I was vaguely aware that the rest of camp was watching on in horror, their own faces pale and grim. The boy would never run again if Peter had succeeded in severing the cord of muscle and, judging by the wicked glint in Peter's eyes, he had. Even if he hadn't, he would make sure to sever it one way or another.

I forced my fingers to uncurl from around the bow and let it clatter to the ground before I turned my head away and retched.

Another ear-splitting scream. The same muscle severed on his other foot. I squeezed my eyes shut tight as my stomach twisted again and I gagged. Sweat beaded at my temples as I tried to block out the noise, tried to block out the smell of my sick in the hot jungle.

I hardly heard Peter's order for the other Lost Boys to carry the screaming boy, hardly heard his order to gag him so he'd stop griping. Then, he barked that if they didn't hurry up and move that they would be next. No one wasted any time after that as they stuffed a dirty rag into the boys mouth and bound his wrists and ankles together with thick jungle vine. As John tightened the knot at the boy's ankles, the boy let out a muffled scream. Tears streaked his cheeks as blood oozed out around the vines. John hardly looked at his hands before wiping them clean on his trousers.

The easiest way to carry the boy was similar to the way the Lost Boys carried a wild boar after a hunt. They slid a long stick between his tied hands and feet and hoisted him up, letting him swing as they waited for Pan's orders.

"Take him to the Cove," Peter ordered as he cleaned the blade of his knife on his trousers without so much as looking up. The boy's eyes widened and he screamed again. He was shaking his head furiously, trying to beg through the gag, but John and Benj were already carrying him away, the other Lost Boys trailing behind as they made their way into the jungle, but Peter wasn't paying attention.

I tried to catch John's eye in an attempt to ask what was waiting for us all at the Cove without actually speaking it out loud, but he didn't look at me. His knuckles were white where he held the wood where the boy swung like wild game, and his hair— still growing wilder by the day— hid his taut features.

I was vaguely aware that Peter and I were the only ones left in the camp, and as I watched him approach from the corner of my eye, I tensed. If Peter was angry at that boy, could that mean he was mad at me too? Was he just waiting until we were alone to punish me? Had I broken another rule by letting that boy stand so close to me, by letting him touch me? My heartbeat throbbed in my feet, reminding me of the last time I had broken a rule. I also thought about that boy's muscle being severed and how he would never walk again. My toes curled.

I sucked in a breath as his hand clamped down around my wrist and he began to tug me along behind him. He didn't say a word as we trailed behind his gang of lost boys, and I didn't dare ask any questions. I didn't know what was waiting for us at the Cove, but there was no way it could be anything good.

###

The Cove, despite the ominous sound of its name, was beautiful. A protected bay with white sand and crystal blue waters stared back at me, and the only promise of any danger was the brewing storm clouds that were rolling over the horizon. A soft breeze blew up from the ocean, ruffling my clothes and drowning my nose with the smell of sea weed and salt.

The peaceful picture was shattered by the muffled sobs of the lost boy hanging between John and Benj, a terrible reminder that something dreadful was going to happen here.

When Peter stepped out onto the beach, no one followed him. I lingered at the edge of the tree line with the rest of the Lost Boys and somehow ended up standing next to Benj, our shoulders brushing as Peter strode up to the edge of the water. He cocked his head as if he were listening, but the only sounds I could hear were the soft lapping of the waves and the whistling of the wind through the trees.

"Bring him here," Peter ordered, his back still to us. John and Benj carried the boy forward, their heads bowed as the boy screamed. "Drop him," Peter said, and John and Benj immediately did as they were told, dropping the boy unceremoniously on the ground. John retrieved the stick and helped the boy sit up in the sand before returning to stand in the tree line.

The boy's cheeks were stained crimson and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying. His cheeks and neck were wet, but he made no move to wipe them away. Blood stained the vines that bound his ankles and wrists, the skin rubbed raw from swinging.

A small wave chased Peter up the beach as he strode up to the boy, a dark shadow settling over his features. As he bent down, the wave retreated, and Peter ripped the gag from the boy's mouth. The boy sputtered and gagged for a few moments before swallowing a few breaths of fresh air.

"Peter… Please!" he begged between gasps of air.

"It's a little late for begging, don't you think, Beck?" Peter asked, furrowing his brow and cocking his head to the side. "I mean, you won't ever walk again, so what use are you to me now? Besides—" his eyes slid to me and I looked away, the darkness that beamed in his eyes too unsettling, "— I don't like it when people touch my things."

My hands curled into fists at the familiar words, at the familiar claim that I was _his,_ but there was another feeling— a different feeling— this time too. A strange fluttering in my chest and warmth in my cheeks.

Beck choked on a sob as Peter stood and turned on his heel without so much as a second glance. Instead, he threw a sly smile at me over his shoulder. "Isn't that right, Sweetheart?" he asked me with a wink and I felt my breath hitch. I could feel all eyes on me, but I kept my eyes glued on my moccasins.

Beck was blubbering incoherently, his bottom lip trembling as Peter made his way back down to the edge of the water, a strange spring in his step. The water raced up to meet him again and, this time, he let the water wash up over his own moccasins.

"Let this be a lesson to everyone," Peter shouted so we could all hear him clearly. "Never touch what's _mine."_ As the water began to recede, Peter slid a knife from his belt and slowly sliced the blade across his palm.

Blood pooled in his palm and when Peter tilted his hand, Beck began to scream. "No! Please, no! Not… Not this!" He attempted to push himself back and away from Peter, but his hands and feet were useless.

With each scream that ripped from his throat, I felt my blood run cold and goosebumps rise on my skin.

I shivered when the first drops of blood hit the water and everything fell silent. The wind stopped whistling and the water stilled. Beck's shoulders shook with silent sobs as he brought his knees to his chest and rested his head in his hands. No one said a word. We were all holding our breath.

A low roll of thunder sounded in the distance, startling me as the dark clouds clawed their way across the sky. Most of the lost boys had taken a step back away from the tree line, abandoning their fellow Lost Boy even more. Even John and Benj slid back, me standing between them as they kept to the darker shadows of the trees as the sun quickly disappeared behind the clouds.

Whatever nightmare that was about to unfold here was not one I wanted to witness, but I knew that I didn't really have a choice.

Long moments stretched, but no one moved, our eyes all glued to the waters of the bay. Thunder growled, long and low and the occasional bolt of lightening split the sky, but even though the clouds looked heavy, no rain fell. The wind began whipping around us, and the water of the bay had darkened, shrouded in shadow.

When the ticking started, Peter slowly made his way from the water, coming to stand next to Beck on the beach. The boy mumbled what I could only imagine were prayers to some long-forgotten god.

Some of the Lost Boys shuffled, but their eyes never left the bay. I wondered briefly if Peter made them watch or if they were just too scared to look away.

A scream— my scream— pierced the air when the beast broke the surface of the water, the ticking deafening even over the thunder. And as it surged up the beach with speed that didn't match its size, I urged myself to move, to turn and run and put as much distance between me and the monster as I could. To my dismay, my feet stayed planted where they were, terror heavier than I could bear to lift.

Gray-green scales stretched over the creature's vast body, the water making it glisten even in the weak light. It's long, tapered snout was open, revealing several sharp teeth and a long tongue.

The creature could almost look Peter in the eyes, and I wondered how much time had passed in order for it to grow to such a size.

It's jaw snapped shut, revealing golden eyes, dissected only by a black slit in the middle that reminded me of the shadow that settled over Peter when he was angry. A guttural growl so strong that it rattled my bones made its way from the monster, followed by a hiss.

Peter chuckled before tangling his fingers in Beck's hair and yanking his head back for the crocodile to see. "He was one of my finest," Peter stated and the crocodile seemed to answer with another low growl. The back corners of its mouth seemed to turn upward in a smile, and it looked wrong. Unnatural. "I think he'll do nicely," Peter said with a smile, and the crocodile opened its large jaws.

Peter hardly had time to step back before the crocodile surged forward, it's body thrashing in the sand as it charged the bound Lost Boy.

His scream mingled with mine, but his was cut short when the crocodile snapped it's jaws shut over him and began to thrash, Beck's body flailing helplessly before the crocodile lifted it's head back and began to swallow him whole.

All the while, Peter looked on with a grin.

My knees threatened to give out on me as I stared on in horror as the boy disappeared between the crocodile's jaws. Some blood dripped from the monster's mouth and onto the beach, staining the white sand crimson.

Fingers laced through mine, and I clamped onto whoever it was for dear life. Our sweaty palms squeezed together as I choked on a sob, and I looked up to see John staring down at me with tears in his eyes. We didn't say a word to each other. What _could_ we say?

I had hoped that after the horror we had all seen that Peter would let us go back to camp, but when the crocodile growled again, a long hiss escaping it, I felt my stomach sink. Peter arched an eyebrow at the beast before his eyes slid to all of us in the tree line.

"Which one?" he asked, and John squeezed my hand so hard it hurt.

Another hiss, and Peter was walking up the beach towards all of us, his eyes glued on one of the younger boys standing next to Benj. He couldn't have been older than eight.

The boy's eyes grew wide as he realized what was happening, but he didn't act fast enough. Peter had wrapped his hand around his upper arm and was dragging him away from the trees before he could think to run. He kicked and begged, shrill shrieks piercing my ears as he begged for someone to help him.

Then, something he said made my heart stop.

"No! No!" the boy screamed as he sobbed. " _Mommy!_ Please! _I want my Mom_!"

Maybe it was the way he screamed it, or maybe it was the way he looked at Peter like he couldn't believe that he would throw him to the crocodile without hesitation. He didn't look like a Lost Boy, but like a little boy who was terrified and knew that he was about to die without ever being able to see his mother again.

And when he looked over his shoulder and scanned the line of boys he thought were his friends and they didn't move to help him, his face crumbled. When his eyes found mine, my chest tightened and I felt like I couldn't breathe. He screamed, begging me to help him as he dug his heels into the sand and reached out behind him with one hand.

Before I could think too much about what would happen to me, I yanked my hand from John's grip and started towards Pan and the crocodile. I didn't know what I would do when I reached them. All I knew is that I had to help. I had to help the boy who screaming for his mother. I had to grab his hand and pull him back to safety.


	13. Chapter 13

I hardly took two steps before I felt a strong hand tighten around my upper arm.

"Don't," John warned as the little boy screamed again, but I wasn't listening. I tried to twist away, tried to slip from John's grasp, but he was one step ahead of me. Yanking me backwards, I stumbled, my backside colliding with his front as his arms wrapped around me and pinned my arms to my sides.

"Let go of me!" I screamed as I continued to struggle. I wasn't going to let Peter feed that little boy to the crocodile. I wasn't going to let that happen.

"There's nothing you can do," John hissed in my ear. I threw my head back with a grunt, hoping I would connect with his nose, but I missed. "Don't think he won't throw you to that beast too. When he's like this, no one's safe."

My thoughts flashed to Tiger Lily, and I wondered if Peter had dragged her through the sand by her hair. Had she begged him to let her go? Did she cry? She said that Hook had been too late to save her, but had he made it just in time to watch the crocodile's jaws snap shut?

An inkling of understanding crept through my veins as I looked at the monster on its belly in front of me. It was practically a god, taking sacrifices in exchange for life and power, and Peter had been feeding it for years. Hook once said that he didn't know how many boys he and Peter had thrown to the crocodile, but it was enough to keep them young for a very, _very_ long time. It was probably the only thing strong enough to kill Peter or Hook besides each other.

And it was the one thing Hook feared the most. For the first time since that night that Peter took me away, I didn't entirely hate Hook for being so afraid.

Despite my scream, Peter's attention on the task at hand didn't waver, but when my eyes fell on the crocodile, I shrunk back into my brother. One large yellow eye was turned to me, the black slit looking like a chasm that one could fall in and never return.

A low rumbling emitted from its throat, and I swear that it was laughing at me.

"Just let him go," came Benj's voice, sounding strained. "There's nothing we can do for him now." Tears sprang to my eyes and I shook my head.

"No," my voice cracked. "John, please. We have to help him." As I said this, I felt John press his face in my hair and shake his head. " _Please!"_ I was becoming hysterical. The farther away Peter dragged the boy, the smaller our window of opportunity became.

"Let him go," Benj rasped, and I wondered if he was crying.

I fought back the sob that was filling my chest as best I could, but when Peter stopped dragging the boy through the sand a few feet from the crocodile and the little boy's outstretched hand finally fell limply to the sand in defeat, I couldn't hold it back. The sound I made sounded like I was being strangled, and the knot in my throat was so large I was sure it would.

I couldn't run to him. By the time I tried, it would be too late.

My legs gave out, but John didn't let go. He and I sank to the ground together, his arms wrapped around my shoulders in a tight embrace, like I would fall apart if he let go.

The boy's eyes were misty with tears, and his cheeks were wet. Snot was running from his nose, but he didn't wipe any of it away. He had eyes the color of cornflower, and I wondered why Peter would want to take such a young boy away from his home, away from his mother.

I gave him my best smile through my quivering bottom lip, and despite the fear in his eyes of what was to come, he seemed to understand I was trying to help. He smiled back, his lips quivering just like mine, and when he started to sob again, I shook my head and brought a finger to my lips. The boy sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and nodded, but his shoulders still shook with sobs.

 _Don't let them see you cry for your life,_ I thought. _Be stronger than they think you are._

I held his gaze until the crocodile claimed him, hoping beyond hope that I eased some of his fear in the end.

The ticking sound returned as the crocodile retreated back into the bay, its bottom jaw stained red. With its hunger satisfied, there was no reason to linger, and the Lost Boys, Peter, and I began to make our way back to camp.

Thunder cracked and lightening flashed, but the rain still refused to fall. I wished it would. Maybe it would help wash away the guilt.

Everyone was somber as we marched through the jungle. Everyone except Peter, who was practically buzzing with energy. Maybe adding two lives onto your own made you giddy, but I didn't ask.

When he slipped his hand into mine and I felt the bandage that covered the gash from his knife drag across my palm, I had to fight the urge to yank my hand away, to scream at him not to touch me after what he had just done.

Peter planted his feet, pulling us both to a stop as the Lost Boys kept on their way. No one peeked over their shoulder to make sure we were still following as Peter stepped close to me, a bright smile on his face, and said, "I have an idea. Follow me."

###

Swimming. He wanted to go swimming. Peter kicked off his moccasins and peeled his shirt from his body before I had time to answer.

I was too busy staring at the waterfall behind him. Water cascaded down the wall of grey stone and splashed into the plunge pool below, and the mist colored a rainbow that shimmered in the rays of sun that peeked out from behind the dark clouds above us.

Despite the beauty of the place, my body buzzed with fear. The outermost water of the plunge pool was a light blue, and I could see the bottom, but the center was dark, and I knew that where the light blue ended, so did my ability to stand. I pictured myself sinking beneath its surface, the light fading little by little the farther I sank.

It was only when Peter began to pull at my own clothes that I was able to focus on something else. My eyes locked with his, and he arched a brow.

"What's the matter, Sweetheart? You seem nervous." He shot me a flirtatious smirk, but I was so terrified that I could hardly breathe.

My eyes darted to the pool again, and I felt my stomach drop. He couldn't really expect me to get in there willingly, although I was certain that I was going to be getting in there anyway if Peter had anything to say about.

Peter hooked a finger under my chin and made me look at him. His features softened as he took in my shaking form and my quick breathing. "I won't let you drown, Sweetheart," he assured me. "I just thought we could both use some time to wind down. Alone," he added with a wink as his hands slid up my sides, taking my shirt with them.

 _Maybe this is my punishment for trying to intervene with the sacrifices,_ I thought as I shivered. _Maybe he's going to hold me underwater again. Maybe the crocodile is waiting in that pool and Peter is going to toss me to it._ My throat shut as images of the crocodile eating the two boys flashed in my mind and my eyes swelled with tears.

Peter's fingers began to untangle the knot of my trousers as I covered my exposed chest; the thin material of my brassiere hardly enough to make me feel covered.

Peter cocked his head, studying me as his fingertips traced my hip bones. My trousers, no longer secured around my waist, were beginning to slide down my legs. "You're angry with me," he stated.

The words surged up my throat and tumbled out of my mouth before I could weigh the consequences. "You _killed_ those boys," I choked as tears slipped out of the corners of my eyes. "You just threw them to that— that _thing!_ And for what? _"_ I shouted as I took a half-step back. "Angry doesn't begin to cover it!"

"Beck knew better," Peter stated as he pointed a finger at me. "He knew better than to get so close to you. That was a rule."

"And the other boy?" I demanded, my fists clenched tightly at my sides as I searched Peter's face for just a smallest hint of remorse. "He didn't break any rules."

Peter shrugged, and I felt rage flare white hot in my gut. "The croc wanted him."

"The croc wanted him," I repeated, my words calm despite the storm of anger that was threatening to rip me apart. Peter didn't say anything— just watched me carefully— with his hands planted on his hips. "I didn't realize Peter Pan was the crocodile's drudge," I spat.

The sharp sting of Peter's slap burned my cheek, effectively dousing any fire that had begun to make me feel brave.

"I am _no one's_ drudge," Peter hissed as I rubbed my burning cheek. I tried to stumble away, but Peter gripped my upper arm and brought be back to him. Still, I remained as stubborn as I could and didn't meet his eyes even when he tried to duck his head to meet mine. After a few moments of dodging his eyes, he let go of my arm and sighed.

Stealing a glance at him up through my lashes, I saw Peter with his head tilted back like he was looking at the sky. He stayed that way for several heartbeats, his hands back on his hips, before he looked at me again. He cupped both sides of my face so I couldn't look away.

"Why do you insist on making this so difficult?" he asked me, his voice surprisingly soft. His eyes were completely focussed on me, and the attention was making my stomach twist.

"W-What?" I asked, my voice breathy and unsure. My feet itched to move, but his gaze held me locked in place.

He took a step closer, our bare stomachs brushing as his breath fanned across my face. Sun kissed skin stretched over lean muscle and he radiated heat that made it hard not to reach out and touch him. My nails dug half-moons into my palms as I held my ground, but my heart was beginning to race under Peter's intense stare.

"It's been months since I brought you here, Sweetheart. _Months._ And yet you still insist on fighting me. Why is that?" He furrowed his brow as if he really didn't know.

"I-I…" I fished for an answer, but none came.

"Hook isn't coming for you. You must know that," Peter said and I nodded, my chest tightening at the mention of the man who put me here in the first place. "Your father wouldn't risk sending his men here." Again, I nodded. My father hadn't sent men after John when Peter took him away, and I couldn't see why I would be any different. If my father sent his men, the deal between my father and Peter would be broken and the Lost Boys would have free rein to terrorize who they wanted when they wanted. It was in the kingdom's best interest to let us go. My father could remarry, could have more children. The kingdom would survive, but it didn't stop me from having to swallow the bitterness I felt towards my father for not trying.

Peter pressed even closer to me, his bare skin sliding against mine in a way that made my mouth go dry. My entire body flushed hot. His breath smelled sweet as it wafted across my face, his eyes sliding down my body like he planned to devour me.

"Peter," I breathed, but he pushed on.

"Don't you dare try to tell me that you don't want me, that there isn't _some_ part of you that doesn't want me," he growled, his emerald eyes blazing with unhindered lust. My heart jumped to my throat at his words, but I couldn't find the strength to deny him, and I felt disgust boil in my belly. "You've changed, Sweetheart. You flush when I'm close by, when I tell the boys that you're _mine."_ His fingers slowly wound into my hair, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin as he locked his fingers in place and gave a small, sharp tug.

"Don't," I gasped as my eyes fell shut. I couldn't meet his eyes without wanting to lean in.

"You try to act defiant in front of them, but it's different when we're alone. You don't flinch when I pull you to me when we go to bed together every night," he leaned down and whispered in my ear. "You don't push my hand away when my fingers trace the skin beneath your shirt. I've heard your sighs when I kiss you, when I grab at you, when I pin you beneath me. You can deny it all you want," he said as I shook my head, "But don't think I haven't noticed the way you squeeze your legs together when it would just be easier to let them fall open for me."

"Don't!" I snapped as I shoved him. He had gone too far. My feelings may have been confusing and disgusting and _wrong,_ but I wasn't some whore. I would never open my legs to him. Never. Peter caught my wrists and pulled me to him again.

"You're disgusted with yourself," he stated as I squirmed. Shameful tears burned my eyes as his words sunk in, "But you don't have to be. You don't have to fight to prove anything anymore, Sweetheart, because no one is coming for you. You won't be returning to Hook's hiding place, and you won't be going home, so why not make it all easier on yourself and stop fighting me?" He held me tight as tears fell silently down my cheeks. I ground my teeth together and brought my hands to his chest.

 _To keep him at bay,_ I told myself, keeping my eyes glued to a spot in the middle of his chest that wasn't too distracting.

He pinched my chin between his fingers, forcing my eyes to his. My heart hammered against my ribs as his tongue absentmindedly flicked across his bottom lip. "Stop fighting me," he repeated. "Let yourself be the little lost girl you want to be—the one we all know you could be. Learn the games and run wild with us; run wild with _me._ Be my little lost princess," he purred with a sly smile that made heat flare in my cheeks. "I won't tell." As he spoke, his soft lips brushed mine with every word. "What do you say, Sweetheart?"

I closed my eyes. I _was_ tired of fighting, tired of the pain that came with denying Peter, but was I was ready to follow the rules? Was ready to play the games and play them right if it meant I didn't hurt anymore, if it meant that Peter would stop hurting me?

I knew I wouldn't survive Peter's blows forever if they were anything like the past several months, and despite the pain and fear, I didn't want to die. I wanted to live, and to do that, I needed to do whatever I had to survive.

 _I understand now, Benj,_ I thought as I swallowed the knot of defiance that was sitting at the base of my throat.

"Yes," I mumbled, not lifting my head.

"What was that, Sweetheart? I didn't quite catch that." I could hear the cocky smirk in his voice.

"I said—"

"I want you to _look_ at me when you say it," Peter growled with a tug at the hair at the base of my neck. The pain made me wince.

"Yes," I repeated louder, finally allowing myself to look at him.

An impish grin stretched Peter's face as he stared down at me with triumph. "I knew you'd come around," he boasted as he kept one hand tangled in my hair. With his other hand, he brushed his fingertips over my cheekbones and down my jaw. He gently traced the lines and dips of my collarbone, his eyes never leaving mine, before he leaned in ever so slowly, and kissed me, his arms snaking around my waist and his hands splayed across my back.

But this time, I pulled him to me and kissed him back with every bit of fight that I had left in me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Present Day**

" _He'll come for you," Tiger Lily insisted as she squeezed my hands._

" _How do you know?"_

 _"Because he came for me."_

 _"He's too late," I tell her as I pull away, but she shakes her head._

 _"Trust me," she begged. "And Thomas. Trust Thomas."_

 _"No," I tell her. "Never again."_

 _"Holly!" she screamed at me, trying to grab my hands again. "Please! He's coming, I promise! Don't give up!"_

But I was already waking up.

###

I woke up sprawled on my stomach in Peter's bed. His pillow brushed against my cheek as I pulled it close, my tears being brushed away by the soft fur. The dream wasn't a new one, but it still made my chest ache.

I swallowed hard and took a shuddering breath before I forced myself to relax, sinking farther into the soft furs of Peter's bed. Peter would be back from Eastloche in a few days, and then all would be well. He kept most of the unwanted dreams at bay, and when one slipped through, he was usually there to stroke my hair and whisper sweet words into my shoulder until I fell back to sleep.

Or he would growl about not letting him sleep and roll away from me, leaving me to deal with the dreams on my own. It all depended on how generous Peter was feeling.

I did my best to imagine what Peter would say to me if he was lying beside me, tried to imagine the steady rise and fall of his chest as he pulled me close on one of his better nights. It wasn't the same, but it would have to do for now.

The soft, warm promise of sleep eventually began to tug at my eyelids and I could feel my bones getting heavier as I allowed myself to sink into the awaiting blackness behind my eyelids. Somewhere, off in the waking world, I thought I heard John changing posts with another lost boy for the night. They seemed rowdier than usual, but I didn't let myself worry too much. I had become used to the Lost Boys and their ability to pick random fights with each other when they were bored. And, if I was being honest, John deserved to be roughed up once in a while.

When the shouting started, the need for sleep vanished.

"Pirates!" I heard one of the younger boys shout, and it felt as though someone had punched me in the gut.

 _I'm dreaming,_ I thought. _It's not possible._

And then I remembered seeing the Jolly Roger earlier that day when I went to look for Peter— the black sails full of wind as it crawled back and forth across the horizon, changing course again and again. Peter had pushed me back into the trees, away from prying eyes. He had been convinced that _they_ were trying to get a glimpse of me.

Maybe they had seen me. And maybe, now, they were coming to steal me away.

I sat up in bed with the intention of sneaking out of the tent, running, and hiding, but there was a small voice in my head- which sounded a lot like Tiger Lily- that told me to stay still, to wait. I quickly pushed back Peter's pillow and wrapped shaking fingers around the hilt of the knife that Peter always kept there, pushing Tiger Lily's voice from my mind. I couldn't just wait to get caught. Peter would be furious with me, and I was just getting used to his hands being gentle.

I wouldn't go back to the pinching, the scratching, the hitting. I couldn't.

The knife was light as a feather— able to slice deeply with very little pressure— but it felt heavy in my hand. I had never had to use it before. Peter insisted that there would never be a need.

He had also insisted that _they_ wouldn't be bold enough to step foot on this island. He had been _certain_ that nothing would come of the ship sailing too close for comfort.

He had been wrong.

"Tie them all up," came a disembodied voice that made a chill like winter bloom in my chest. "Search them all for hidden weapons and double the knots," came the man's gruff order. "I don't want any of these brats pulling any surprises on us."

"Aye aye, Captain!" came the joint reply.

"The rest of you, help me search the tents. She has to be here somewhere."

 _He's looking for me,_ I thought, and the corner of my mouth seemed to twitch up all on it's own. I bit the inside of my cheek hard, wiping the smile from my face as guilt washed through me. Peter had taken such good care of me in the last few weeks. I had forgiven him for everything else.

Hadn't I?

My breath was coming in quick gasps as I fought with myself about what to do. I clutched the knife to my chest, my eyes glued to the closed tent flap of Peter's tent. Firelight flicked across it, casting dark, moving shadows of the men that lay just on the other side. Their shadows looked like monsters— long fingers and wide shoulders with no faces.

"Holly!" John's shout rang out and crashed into me like cold water. "Run! Run now!"

But my legs wouldn't move.

"Where is she?" the man demanded. I tried not to picture what he looked like, blue eyes blazing through dark hair. It hurt too much.

But John didn't answer the man. He only repeated his order. "Run, Holly! Run as far as you can and—"

His words were cut off with a dull _thud,_ and I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth as I gasped, hoping upon hope that no one heard me.

"Find her," came the man's gruff order, and then I could hear tent flaps being torn aside, could hear blankets being torn from beds before being overturned and the muffled protests of the Lost Boys through the gags that must have been shoved into their mouths.

Only when one of the shadows turned his head and began to stalk slowly towards Peter's tent like a predator did I regain control of my legs. Flipping the covers back, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and quickly slipped on my moccasins, leaving my trousers in a pile on the floor. I didn't have time to get dressed. I needed to run.

I didn't waste anymore precious time as I drove the knife into the back wall of the tent and began to tug the blade down, tearing at the tough material. If I could make a big enough hole, I could slip out the back and—

"Stop," the man's voice drifted into the tent. "Don't move." His men must have heard him and stopped tearing apart our camp because everything went silent.

I urged myself to move faster as I jerked at the blade. _Just a little more._

"Stop," he demanded again, softer this time. I felt him take a step inside the tent, heard the flutter as the tent flap closed behind him, trapping us inside together.

My hands seized their work. The hide of the tent was tough, and I had no doubt that the intruder would grab me before I could cut a whole big enough to slip through. I needed to be brave. Peter would want me to be brave, would want me to face down the enemy with all the courage I could muster even though I wasn't feeling very brave.

I clutched the knife tighter in my sweaty palm and took a steadying breath before I pulled myself to my full height and turned to face down the man I had tried so desperately to forget for a year.

When our eyes locked, his cerulean orbs twinkled from beneath his black hair just like I knew they would. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in an unsure smile and he ran his one hand over the dark scruff of his jaw.

The chill that had blossomed in my chest wrapped itself around my heart like a vice as he looked at me with what looked so much like regret. He licked at his chapped lips as he played with the curved silver of his hook on his left hand. A memory of the cool silver slipping under a strap of an old dress rushed to the surface and I had to swallow the knot that cinched my throat shut.

"What…" I croaked before swallowing again as another memory threatened to slam into me. "What are you doing here?" The question came out as a whisper. The threat of tears stung my eyes.

Hook's signature cocky smirk appeared at his lips, and he seemed to have recovered from his momentary discomfort. "This is a rescue mission, love," he said, and I felt sick hearing his nickname for me. "I'm rescuing you." He arched an eyebrow and spread his hands before saying, "You're welcome."

He seemed so proud of himself, so sure. All the hot anger that I had buried away flooded through me as he watched me, his eyes taking in my disheveled hair and bare legs. He hardly seemed to notice the knife in my hand or, if he did, he wasn't worried.

"So," I said, trying to pack as much anger and conviction into my words as possible, "the coward finally decided he wanted to play hero huh?"

His face fell, but I didn't feel any satisfaction. And yet, I still wanted to inflict as much pain as possible. I wanted him to know just how much pain I had felt in the past year, but when I opened my mouth to spit all the venom at him that I could, he interrupted me.

"I deserved that, but we don't have time to talk about this right now, Holly," he said, not meeting my gaze. "We need to leave."

How many nights had I laid awake wishing that I could do just that?

I shook my head. "No. _You_ need to leave. You and your crew of mongrels. You all need to leave."

He was many months too late. I couldn't leave now, especially not willingly. The punishment if Peter found out…

I wouldn't survive it.

He took a step towards me, his hand outstretched as if he planned make a grab for me. "I'm not leaving you here, Holly."

When I raised the blade of my knife, he paused, his brow drawing together as if he couldn't understand why I was being this way. A year ago, I wouldn't understand either.

"Why not?" I hissed, all the words I longed to scream at him boiling on my tongue and eating away at my teeth like acid. "You're the reason I'm here."

The guilt washed over his features like a tidal wave and he swallowed hard, his demeanor beginning to slip. "I know," he admitted. His voice was thick with disgust. "And there hasn't been a day that I haven't regretted—"

"You don't get to talk to me about regret!" I shouted, and Hook flinched. My hands— shaking before— were unusually steady and my heart was pounding in my ears. Every cut, every bruise, every scar that I had acquired while on the island echoed on my skin as a reminder of everything Hook had allowed to happen to me. "You have no idea what I have been through because of you! You don't _get_ to be sorry!"

Hook's shoulders slumped as he took a half-step back. "You're right," he said, sounding defeated. He put his hand and hook up in mock surrender, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I dropped the blade slightly, convinced that I wouldn't have to use it but still trying to keep up the facade that I would if it came to that.

I missed the coil of his muscles, but I didn't miss the twinkle in his eye as he sprang forward with an outstretched hand.

Panicked and caught off guard, I took a step back and tried swipe blindly with the knife, but Hook was faster. His strong hand quickly wrapped my wrist and twisted it painfully behind my back. I screamed and dropped the blade, immediately scolding myself for being so weak.

I struggled as he pinned me back against his chest. "Let go of me!" I screamed as I tried to twist away, but his hold didn't waver.

"I can't do that, love," he said as he he wrapped his other arm around me, effectively pinning my arms to my side, but I wasn't listening.

"Let _go!"_ I shrieked and pushed back as hard as I could, using all the power in my legs that I could muster. While Hook's hold was steady, his feet were not, and soon we were both stumbling to the ground. The air whooshed from his lungs and he groaned, his arms loosening around me just enough for me to roll onto my stomach and crawl towards the knife. Once I grabbed it, I would get up and run. I didn't know the jungle well, but I knew it better than Hook and his crew, and I had no doubt that I could hide.

The blade of the knife glinted in the dark, calling for me to grab it, but as my fingertips brushed the hilt, Hook's arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back. My nails raked the ground as I screamed and flailed before flying back to tangle in his black hair. I began tearing at his scalp as best I could, but the angle made it impossible to do too much damage.

When Hook clamped a rag over my nose and mouth that smelled strongly of ether, I held my breath. I desperately clawed at his hand, at his arm, at anything I could reach, but it was no use.

"I'm sorry," Hook whispered into my hair when I couldn't hold my breath anymore. "I'm so sorry."

Long minutes passed and as my body became heavier, he gently guided us to the ground, whispering those words over and over until the world faded away and my nails quit carving angry red lines across the backs of his hand.


	15. Chapter 15

As I began to make my way through the blackness behind my eyelids and rejoined the waking world, I was bombarded with the smell of sandalwood, cinnamon, and rum. I was also aware of a warm heaviness that surrounded my body, the soft touch of cotton brushing my skin.

A tight knot settled in my chest as I opened my eyes and found myself in Hook's quarters, in his bed. Memories reared their ugly heads immediately, threatening to drown me as I closed my eyes again, but I pushed them aside. The bone-deep sadness quickly turned to anger when I peeled open my eyes, looked down, and found that I was wearing one of Hook's white cotton shirts and nothing else. The man had had the nerve to undress me, strip me of my only belongings, and wrap me in his own clothes like he owned me! Heat rose up my neck and into my cheeks at the thought of Hook seeing me bare, which only fueled my anger.

Ripping the blankets away, I quickly stood and made my way to the door that would lead me out onto the deck of the Jolly Roger, ignoring the cool feel of the wood on my bare feet and the feel of air on my legs.

I intended to rip the door from its hinges before finding Hook and giving him a piece of my mind, only to find the door locked.

A frustrated sound escaped my throat as I pounded my fist against the door. "Let me out!" I screamed, pounding on the door so hard that it rattled. "Let me out, Hook, or I swear—"

Just then, the door swung inwards, and I had to stumble back to keep from getting hit.

"You know," Hook mused as he looked at me with a raised brow, "I was _sure_ that a few good hours of sleep would calm you down." I glared at him, ready to wrap my hands around his throat when his bright blue eyes raked down my body, taking in my disheveled hair and naked legs. I ignored the need to shift, determined not to let him get to me. "I always did like the way you looked in my shirts, love," he said, his voice thick with flirtatious desire.

"That's strange," I stated, the words coming out quicker than I had time to think about them, "Because I always thought Peter's shirts fit me better."

Hook stiffened and clenched his jaw tight, his eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. My words startled even me, and even though they weren't entirely true, I couldn't take them back.

The room began to spin the longer I thought about my words. I had spoken them so freely, so easily, even though Peter wasn't around to listen to them. In fact, Peter wasn't anywhere nearby. He was probably still in Eastloche, completely unaware of my disappearance.

I was free. Out of Pan's clutches and far away from the horrors of that island.

The thought made my knees weak, made my throat constrict and made it hard to breathe. Whether it was a good feeling or a bad one, I wasn't sure.

Hook didn't seem to notice that my world was spinning a little too fast, but he was slowly recovering from the blow that I had delivered to his ego. His shoulders still looked tense, but the hatred in his eyes had vanished and was replaced with what looked like pain.

"We should reach Starryview in three days," he said, back to being the captain in charge. I nodded, the walls around me closing in like they did so many nights in Peter's tent.

I needed out. I needed air. I couldn't think about Starryview and Hook and everything else, but when I tried to push past Hook, he didn't budge, and I stepped into a wall of hard muscle and leather.

"Move," I rasped, pushing on his chest.

"I don't think so."

"I need _air,"_ I said, hysteria beginning to slip into my words.

"You need to _behave,"_ Hook quipped as he wrapped his fingers around my upper arm. "And the only way I know you'll behave is if you stay in here."

"No!" I argued as I yanked my arm from his grip. He scowled, but didn't make another grab for me. "I won't be held in here like a prisoner!"

Hook leaned in close until we were nose to nose. His tone was clipped as he said, "You'll stay in here until I know that you can—"

I spit in his face, not giving him time to finish his sentence. He recoiled, wiping the sleeve of his coat across his face as he swore. Determined to take advantage of his predicament, I slid past him. He made a blind grab for me, but I twisted out of the way before making my way out into the middle of the deck, amongst the hustle and bustle of his crew.

The salt and sand crusted wood was rough beneath my bare feet, and the air was thick with the smell of ocean spray. I could feel the curious gazes of Hook's crew as I craned my head and looked up at the endless blue sky. I recognized their faces. I even knew some of their names, but I wasn't about to concern myself with a reunion.

Cool wind whipped my hair and pulled the shirt I was wearing in all directions— probably flashing my rear end to Hook's entire crew— but I didn't care. The sound of the Jolly Roger gliding through the water sounded like music to my ears, the creaks of the wood a promise that I was out of that hot, dreaded jungle.

A sudden swell of emotion overtook me as my eyes clouded with tears and my throat closed tightly. I choked on a sob as my mouth twitched into a smile, not caring who watched.

I was jerked from my reverie when Hook spun me around to face him. His lips were pulled back over his teeth in a snarl, and one of his eyes was irritated from where he had rubbed my spit away.

I tried to shrug from his grasp, but his fingers were digging painfully into the soft flesh of my underarm. "Let go—"

"Shut up," he hissed, making my blood boil. "I know you've probably gotten used to acting like a savage but—"

" _I'm_ the savage?" I asked, my voice rising to meet his. As I wiped away the few tears that had had time to escape onto my cheeks, I was vaguely aware that the crew had stopped to watch Hook and I, but I ignored them.

"Aye," he said with a stiff nod, "I think you are."

"Says the man that barged into _our_ camp—"

" _You're_ camp?" Hook barked a laugh, and the sound ground against my nerves in the worst possible way. My fingers curled into fists, and it took every bit of my self control not to clock him in the jaw. "As if you really belong anywhere in the that god forsaken place! As if you—"

"Alright!" rang out a voice above us. "That's enough from the both of ya!"

All eyes turned upward, and while Hook was momentarily distracted, I pulled away from him, putting a few feet between us. I hated being so close to him. He was too familiar, even though he was practically a stranger now.

I craned my neck and squinted into the sun as a shadow began to slide down from the crow's nest. I shielded my eyes with a hand just as the man settled into a spot in the long net of rope that lead up the ship's mast. His skin was even darker than I remembered— he'd been out in the sun— and his wrinkles had deepened since the last time I saw him, but his voice was still as gruff as always.

"This doesn't concern you, Porter," Hook growled, his eyes flicking to me. I glared at him in return.

"Like hell," Porter grunted as he stared down at us. His brown hair hung in thin, brown strings around his face, his faded bandanna filthy and soaked with sweat. "How long do you think it's been since she's seen the open sky? Since she's been free of that jungle?" When Hook opened his mouth to answer, Porter rushed on. "I highly doubt that Pan let her out of his sight, so how long do you think it's been since she hasn't had to watch everything she said or did, hm?" Porter raised a peppered eyebrow.

As Hook and the rest of the crew stood in stunned silence, Porter hopped from his spot on the ropes and landed with a loud _thud._ As he straightened without any sign of injury or discomfort, I wondered how his aging bones could still take it. I quickly had to remind myself that I shouldn't care, that I _didn't_ care.

Porter, who was a whole head shorter than Hook, met his captain's fuming gaze. "Give her time to breathe, Captain. There's nothing wrong with enjoying some fresh air. That's all I'm sayin'."

Before Hook could think of a retort, Porter turned on his heel and slipped away between the stunned crew members that had stopped to stare and busied himself with untying knots from some rope.

When I turned my gaze back to Hook, he was already staring at me. His brows were knotted together like he was trying to figure out a riddle, his blue eyes searching for _something,_ though I didn't know what it was. I held his gaze, willing my heart not to flutter as I did so. A dull ache began to form in my chest as we stared at one another, and I wondered if he was even aware of the effect he was having.

"It's rude to stare," I spat in an attempt to cover up my nerves. It seemed to work because Hook's thoughtful look disappeared and was replaced by the same scowl from before. He seemed to realize that we had an audience because he barked at his crew to quit standing around and to get back to work. The crew startled, but they didn't hurry on their way. They were too curious about what was going to happen next.

"Try anything," Hook hissed through gritted teeth as he took a step towards me, but I was ready for him.

"Your threats don't frighten me, Hook," I quipped, holding my ground. "And we both know that you're no good at keeping promises."

I could swear that I heard Hook grind his teeth together as he tensed, his eyes as sharp as daggers. I'm sure he wished I would just drop dead.

I expected him to shout, to drag me back to his quarters and lock me away— maybe even throw me below deck— but he didn't. Instead, he turned and stormed away, barking orders. His boots pounded against the steps as he made his way to the helm.

"Move! Now!" he shouted, and the crew finally seemed to find control of their legs and feet. "Unless you lot want to scrub this ship top to bottom when we drop anchor. And you—" my eyes snapped to his to see his eyes burning into mine, "—get dressed. There's something for you in the black chest near the door."

I glared, but obeyed, making my way back across the deck and towards Hook's quarters.

A low whistle floated up behind me, and I turned to see Porter shaking his head, his eyes never leaving the work he was doing on the long length of rope. "Get ready for a long trip, boys," he said to the crew that was hustling around him. "I'm sure we haven't heard the last of it."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hello, lovely readers! Thank you for reading yet another chapter of _Little Lost Princess!_**

 **I just wanted to let you all know that writer's block hit me really hard after this chapter. I'm still writing the story, and I have no intention on giving up, but I'm a little stuck. With that being said, I want you all to know that updates may be a little farther apart than usual. Up to this point, I've been updating the story once a week, each time adding a new chapter. I am still going to shoot for that time frame, but I don't want to sacrifice a good story for the sake of keeping up timely updates.**

 **I know that this can be frustrating, but I would really appreciate your patience and understanding while I try to figure out how to make this story as amazing as possible for you guys! Thank you, and happy reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

I looked everywhere. I tore the room apart, but with every inch of Hook's quarters that I covered and didn't find _my_ clothes— the clothes I _wanted_ to wear— I grew angrier. The soft blankets of his bed were strewn across the floor and the drawers of his desk were torn out and emptied. I peeled back maps and photos of sketched landscapes off the walls in search of a secret compartment, but my fingers were always met with sleek, smooth wood.

With a huff, I turned my eyes back to the black chest that rested near the door. The lid had fallen closed during my raid, but I made no move to open it again. I wanted nothing to do with what rested inside.

A harsh knock at the door startled me from my thoughts.

"What?" I snapped, willing whoever was on the other side of the door to go away.

Hook's voice floated under the door. "Are you dressed?"

"Yes," I lied with a roll of my eyes. What did he care?

I hardly had time to protest as he opened the door and took a half-step inside. When he stopped dead in his tracks, wide-eyed, and took in the mess I had made, I smirked. When his eyes landed on me, I stood up straight.

"What the _bloody hell_ is wrong with you?" he yelled.

"I wanted my clothes," I stated as I planted my hands on my hips.

Hook stepped into the room and shut the door a little too harshly before he stalked over to the chest and threw the lid open. When he reached in and then held up the garment he expected me to wear, I squared my shoulders.

"I _won't_ wear that," I hissed, and Hook rolled his eyes.

"Well that's too bloody bad, love," he hissed back as he tossed the garment at me. Instinctively, I caught it, but I quickly tossed it onto Hook's bed. "It's the only thing we have that fits you. And if I remember correctly, you look quite lovely in it." He shot me a flirtatious smirk and a wink, and I felt warmth begin to blaze on my cheeks and anger boil in my belly.

Hook had started going about cleaning up some of the mess I had made— stacking parchment on his desk and putting jars of ink back in the drawers— but I made no move to help him. Or get dressed. "Besides," he said with a shrug, "I threw all of _your_ clothes overboard. Might poison some poor fish that's daft enough to try and nibble on it, but—"

"You _what?"_ I screeched, and Hook grinned. "You son of a—"

"Get dressed, love," he ordered with a strained smile as he straightened the mountain of blankets on his bed before handing the retched garment back to me. "Knock when you're finished."

"Knock?" I asked as he slipped out the door, and it was only when I heard the click of the lock that I understood. "Wait!" I shouted as I ran to the door and pounded my fist against the wood.

"I'll unlock this door when you're dressed," Hook's voice came through the wood, sounding amused. I ground my teeth together, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smug look off his face that I'm sure was there.

"Hook!" But there was no answer. I could hear his boots retreating across the deck, as far away from me as he could get. Anger began to explode with in me, and I could feel the heat spread from my cheeks to my ears to the tips of my fingers as I whipped around to look at the dress that was spread across his bed.

It was the color of lilacs, with a long skirt that would just skim the ground when I walked. It had once been the perfect dress for the girl I used to be, back when I was hoping that Hook would notice. But for the girl I was now— the girl that I had been for so long— it felt like a slap in the face.

As I stared at it, I debated between putting it on and just leaving it alone, but I had only been locked in Hook's quarters for a short time and I was already feeling restless. There was no way I could spend the next two days locked in here. In the end, it was just a dress. I had to tell myself it was just a dress.

 _Don't think about anything else,_ I ordered myself as I ran my fingers across the soft cotton of the skirt, but it was hard. As I slipped Hook's shirt over my head, I tried to block out the memories of this room. A hard knot settled in my throat as I took the dress in my hands, but I swallowed it down.

 _It's just a dress._

Taking the dress into my hands, I turned away from the bed. I was about to slip the dress over my head when I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I looked up, pulling the dress up to my chest to cover myself, only to be met with my own reflection staring back at me.

How long had it been since I saw myself in a mirror?

 _Long enough,_ I thought as I brought one hand up to touch my face.

It was hard to believe that the girl looking out from the mirror was me. Her hair was a mass of knots and desperately needed washed. Her cheeks were slightly hollow and her wild eyes were wide and afraid. I was almost too afraid to see what the rest of her looked like, but before I could convince myself otherwise, I pulled the dress aside and took in my mostly-naked form.

Peter had kept me fed, but I was still far too thin. My fingers traced the soft outline of my ribs and down to my jutting hipbones. All my gentle curves were gone, replaced by sharp points and harsh angles. My skin was a sickly pale color and was cool to the touch despite the warm air in Hook's quarters, but even my ghostly skin couldn't hide the scars that littered my body. Most of them were small, ones that I acquired when playing hide and seek with the Lost Boys whenever I barreled through bushes or thorn-covered branches. Others, however, were much harder to forget.

I must have been in the mood to torture myself because I turned my back to the mirror and craned my head to look at my back. John's staff had left plenty of silver lines across my shoulder blades, and it would be many, many years before they faded away.

Then, I lifted one foot, and then the other. Each one was riddled with criss-crossed scars from the day I had first tried to chase after Tiger Lily. Most of them were still a bit puffy, unable to heal properly due to never being able to keep my feet up and just recover.

Peter always told me that they were a reminder of when I wouldn't follow the rules— a reminder of the time before I was his little lost princess— but at that moment, looking in the mirror, they were a reminder of how Peter had broken me.

But I had forgiven him for all of that. There had been plenty of good reasons for him to do those things. There were rules, and the rules kept us safe. Kept _me_ safe.

Having seen enough, and having had enough of my doubt, I slipped the dress over my head and the let the long skirt fall down around my legs, effectively covering most of my scars. Hook didn't provide any shoes and— if he was telling the truth— my moccasins were floating in the ocean somewhere, so I could only assume that I was to go barefoot for the time being.

The dress didn't fit as well as it used to. It was too big in the bodice, hanging around my body more like a curtain than a dress, and one of the straps kept sliding off my shoulder. Each time I hooked a finger under it to pull it back up, I had to stop myself from thinking about the cool silver of Hook's hook pulling it down all those months ago.

 _It's only temporary,_ I told myself as I studied my sickly form in the mirror. The pale color of lilac made my skin look washed out and brought out the dark shadows under my eyes and in the dips of my collarbone. I briefly wondered if the sharp angles of my bones would be enough to slice the dress to ribbons, but that was only wishful thinking.

 _When we get to Starryview,_ I thought as I stood up straight, _I'll get different clothes. Even if I have to sew them myself._

This would do for the time being. Now, I just had to put up with Hook's smug attitude for two more days.

The first time I knocked, I wasn't sure that anyone heard me. No one stopped in their duties, and no one unlocked the door, so I pounded harder.

"Are you actually dressed?" Hook asked on the other side of the door. "Or are you just waiting to barge out once I open the door? Because I have a ship to run."

I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to scream at him to let me out and to see for himself, but I worried that my attitude would only keep me locked away, so I took a deep breath.

"I'm dressed," I said as sweetly as I could. "Now let me out."

I could hear Hook scoff as he slid the key into the lock, and I took a step back to avoid being hit by the door. "Always in a hurry," he teased as he pushed open the door, his eyes fixed on the key as he wiggled it to get it unstuck. As he finally pulled the key from the lock in the door, he said, "And still giving orders like a princess—"

Whatever he was going to finish his statement with, I didn't know because he cut himself short. He froze, the key still gripped between his fingers, and looked at me with wide eyes. His eyes scanned over me, seeming to take in every knot, scratch, and scar before his brows knitted together and the shocked look on his face turned to concern.

I shifted, feeling more than a bit self conscious. My stomach flipped when he opened his mouth to say something but then swallowed it. Whatever he was thinking must have been quite the statement because he had to clear his throat and swallow a second time.

"I'm not a princess anymore," I stated, my voice sounding scratchy in my ears. I cleared my throat and looked down at my dirty feet as I curled my toes under the soft skirt. They seemed so out of place, filthy and caked in dirt while the skirt hardly held a wrinkle. It was a reminder that I no longer belonged to the world that Hook thought I did. "I'm a—"

"Don't," Hook snapped, and when I looked up at him, he was scowling at me. "Don't you _dare_ say that you're one of them."

Was there a hint of desperation in his voice?

I raised an eyebrow at him, happy to have something under my belt that got him riled up, but I didn't argue. There would be time to get under Hook's skin, to make him sorry for everything he'd done, but for now, I had to get out of his quarters. So, I crossed my arms and watched him watch me.

The puzzled look had returned to his face, the frown lines around his mouth and between his brow deeper than I remembered them being.

"What?" I asked, exasperated.

He cleared his throat again, his tongue flicking out to wet his chapped lips as he stared at me. "You just look… different," he finished, sounding unsure.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "You don't say."

"Holly—"

"No." I held up a hand. "We're not talking. About anything. I did what you said, and now I want out of this room. So, are you going to let me out of here, or are you going to go back on your word like you always do?"

I didn't miss the flicker of guilt in his eyes, or the twist of guilt in my own gut, but I pushed it away. _He_ should _feel guilty,_ I thought.

To my surprise, he didn't put up a fight. There were no snarky remarks, no arguments. Instead, he stepped aside, his eyes pleading silently as I slid past him without a second glance.

"We'll have to talk about what happened eventually," he said in a low voice as I passed.

 _Not a chance,_ I thought, but I swallowed the words. I didn't want him to think I heard him.

"I mean it, Holly," he said a bit louder as I walked away— looking for a barrel to sit on— but I just kept walking.

 _Not a chance._


	17. Chapter 17

Another wave of nausea. Another stomach cramp. More heaving.

It seemed that seasickness was not something one's body soon forgot. I had been fine earlier, but it would seem that my excitement to be out of the jungle and breathing fresh air wasn't meant to last. I found myself wishing for the sun to finally fall behind the horizon so I had an excuse to lay down.

I gripped the side of the ship, splinters and salt digging into my palms as my stomach wrung itself out. The world spun dangerously whenever I tried to lift my head, but watching the churning water below was just as bad. It was an endless cycle of torture, but thankfully, no one had made any comment about my current state.

When I heard someone snicker behind me, I ground my teeth together to keep from gagging again. "Seems our royal companion still doesn't have her sea legs, boys!" A few of Hook's men snickered in response.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the acidic taste that coated my tongue, and turned to face the one crew member I had never been able to stand. "And it seems you're still as foul as you were before, Gresham," I retorted as my head spun. I gripped the side of the ship to keep my world from tilting. "Tell me, how many of your teeth have rotted our of your head since I saw you last?" Gresham scowled, revealing more grey gum than rotting black teeth, and I smirked. "Quite a few by the looks of it," I said with a smile.

I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me as Gresham grabbed me by the front my dress and pulled me nose to nose with him. He was so predictable it was almost comical.

"You think you're so funny?" he asked, his rank breath fanning across my face. My stomach churned as I fought a wave of sickness.

"Not at all," I answered, and Gresham scowled. "I'm not afraid of you," I added, meeting his eyes.

"Is that right?" Gresham hissed. His knuckles were turning white from gripping my dress so hard.

"It is."

Gresham was so caught up in trying to intimidate me that he didn't have time to register how close I was standing to him. When I brought my knee up in between his legs as hard as I could, he instantly let go and stumbled back in pain, cupping himself as he swore profusely. A few other crew members flinched for their comrade, and it made my chest swell as I smirked.

"Alright, that's enough!"

I peeked over my shoulder to see Hook standing at the ship's helm. His eyebrows were raised in a warning, and I shrugged.

 _Fine by me,_ I thought. I had proven my point.

Hook's eyes shifted then, his brows drawing together, and my brain started working faster than my body could keep up with. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't turn fast enough. "Gresham, don't—"

My eyes widened in horror as I felt thick, strong fingers wrap around my neck.

A scream rose in my throat, but as Gresham tightened his grip, no sound came.

"Not so tough now, are you, you little brat?" Gresham growled as he pulled me closer. When he lifted me up so he could look me in the eye, I clawed at his arms. My chest burned from the lack of air, and it felt like I was drowning.

"Let 'er go, Gresham!" came Hook's command, but the wild glint in Gresham's eyes told me he had no intention on listening. "Gresham!"

"He should have left you on that island to rot," Gresham hissed. My eyes were starting to flutter shut, black dots dancing at the edges of my vision, but I didn't miss the giant body that loomed behind my captor.

A giant pair of arms snaked under Gresham's arms and behind his head before jerking him backwards. Gresham's hand released me and I fell to the the deck on my hands and knees gasping for air. I clawed at my throat, desperate for the burning to stop while my savior and Gresham struggled.

"Let go o' me!" Gresham shouted, but whoever held him held fast as Gresham swore. "Let _go_ o' me, Langley!" he shouted again.

I gulped down lung full of air, my throat beyond sore as I stared down at the deck, thankful to Langley for coming to my rescue.

"Get him out of here," came Hook's voice. I could hear the heavy fall of his boots as he approached, but I couldn't move out of the way. "Throw him below deck. I'll deal with him later." His voice was a growl, and if I wasn't in so much pain, I'd probably be afraid.

Then he was kneeling down beside me, his eyes soft and full of concern. "You alright?" I nodded, unwilling to use my voice. His shoulders relaxed a bit. "Good." He stood and held out a hand to me. "Let's go."

I didn't ask what he meant, and I was beyond caring. I had just had my windpipe nearly crushed, and as long as I was getting farther away from Gresham, I didn't care where we were going. I refused his helpful hand though, but Hook didn't seem to mind.

He guided me back to his quarters and shut the door behind us before instructing me to sit down on the bed. It was only when he sat down next to me— the mattress dipping with his weight— that I began to feel nervous.

"Let's have a look, shall we?" he asked with a cock of an eyebrow. I nodded my consent, and Hook gently tilted my head back with his finger so he could get a clear view of the damage. I flinched a bit, the stretch uncomfortable, and Hook apologized.

He leaned in close, so close that I could feel his breath on my skin, and shivered despite my best attempts not to. Goosebumps rose on my arms, but if Hook noticed, he spared me the embarrassment.

He sighed as his thumb traced the length of my windpipe. "You're definitely going to have some bruising. And it may hurt to do eat and drink the next couple of days, but you should be fine."

I nodded, and Hook leaned back, studying me as his hand dropped away. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

He stared at me for a moment before saying, "You shouldn't have prodded him like that."

Anger flared in my belly. "He deserved it," I rasped, my throat feeling raw.

"I'm sure he'd say the same about you," Hook quipped, fixing me with a stern look. I scoffed, and Hook rolled his eyes. "Stay here and rest," he ordered. "I'll leave the door unlocked, but I need Gresham above deck, so you may want to avoid leaving this room until he calms down. Is that fair?" he asked with a cock of an eyebrow. When I nodded, he got up and began to walk towards the door without another word.

"He _was_ right about one thing," I said, and Hook turned to look at me, his hand on the door handle.

"Oh? And what's that, love?" he asked, sounding curious.

"You should have left me on that island," I answered.

Hook studied me for a moment before he shrugged. "A bit late for that now, isn't it?" He didn't give me time to answer before he slipped out the door. I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to hear the click of the lock, but it seemed that Hook was going to keep his word and leave it unlocked. Part of me wanted to walk back out onto the deck just to annoy him, but my throbbing throat reminded me that I enjoyed breathing, so I stayed put.

Since I seemed to have all the time in the world, I relaxed into the mountain of pillows and wrapped myself into a tight cocoon of blankets. As I laid there, staring at the dark wood on the ceiling, I wondered if Peter knew I was missing yet. I wondered how angry he would be when he found out.

I shivered. _He'll be beyond angry,_ I told myself, my stomach tying itself into hard knots. I closed my eyes, trying to convince myself that he wouldn't be angry at me when he found out I was gone.

 _It's not my fault, Peter,_ I thought as my eyes became heavy, hoping that he would hear me somehow. _It's not my fault._

###

 _Three Days Later_

 _Pan's Camp_

They all sat in tense silence. No one moved. It had been this way for three days, waiting for Peter and the other boys to return, fearful of what was to come.

Hook and his crew had surprised them, had gotten the better of them, and now Holly was gone. The crown jewel of all of Peter's belongings was gone.

Peter would be furious. No, not furious. Murderous.

They all flinched when they heard the voices of their fellow Lost Boys as they made their way through the thick jungle towards camp. Judging by the volume of their voices, it had been a good trip.

John ran a clammy hand through his hair, his greasy curls no longer able to spring back as he thought about what he was going to tell Peter. He had been on watch that night, and by the time he realized what was going on, it had been too late. He had tried to warn Holly to run, but then the pirate scum had knocked him over the head with a rock. Hard. He still had the goose egg to prove it.

According to a few of the other boys, Holly had tried to run. The giant slit in the back of Pan's tent seemed to agree, but Hook had gotten to her first. Then, he'd drugged her and carried her out of camp flung over his shoulder like a prize.

By the time anyone got free of their bonds, Hook's ship was gone, and with no idea where they were headed— and with their numbers far fewer than they normally were— it was foolish to go after them. So they waited, hoping Pan would know what to do…

If Pan didn't kill them all for letting them get away first.

As Pan and the others stumbled into camp, John braced himself.

"Hello, boys!" Peter crowed as the Lost Boys began dropping bags and crates onto the jungle floor. It _had_ been a good trip, but John couldn't bring himself to be excited about what kind of goods they had brought back. He felt too sick to his stomach. Judging by the pale faces of his fellow Lost Boys as they jumped to help with unloading the loot, he wasn't the only one.

Peter's brow furrowed at the lack of response. "Well, don't look so happy to see us," he quipped, but he brushed their odd behavior off as nothing more than exhaustion. With so few boys left back at camp, they probably had to pull double watch duty. He shrugged. Not his problem.

However, he _did_ have a problem with not being welcomed back to camp by his one and only Lost Girl.

He had to admit, the princess had gotten under his skin over the past year, and he had found himself impatient to get back to her.

A warm wave of lust washed through him as he thought about all the things he was going to do to her once camp had settled down for the night. If he could even wait that long. He had been patient with her up to this point and, for the most part, she had been compliant, but tonight, he wanted more.

He wanted _all_ of her.

There had been plenty of times when he had seen her in her entirety, the pale glow of her skin just begging to be touched, to be covered by his own golden skin, but he never pushed too hard. She needed to trust him, to feel comfortable or she would tense up and would no longer sing for him as he played her like an instrument.

There had also been plenty of times when he had nestled between her legs and ground against her, his clothed bottom half always rubbing her in a way that made her blush and left her gasping, covered in a sheen of sweat as she stared up at him with big eyes.

Tonight, he would have all of her, with no clothes to separate them. He was sure of it.

And yet, she still hadn't shown herself. Peter furrowed his brow, scanning the camp, but she was no where to be found.

"Where's Holly?" he asked no one in particular.

No one answered him, but he didn't miss the worried looks that they all seemed to exchange. Everyone except John, who was busy helping Benj stack the crates of dried fish they had acquired in Eastloche in one of the tents.

One of the younger boys who had stayed behind slipped by Peter, but not before he reached out and grabbed him. The boy squeaked as Peter spun him around to face him.

"Where's Holly?" he asked the boy, his voice dangerously low. There was a feeling in his stomach that he couldn't name. All he knew was that something wasn't right, and no one was telling him why. As the boy opened and closed his mouth, fumbling for an answer, Peter noticed angry red marks around his wrists that looked a lot like rope burn. Peter's brows shot up in surprise before he noticed that the other boys had the same marks.

In fact, _all_ of them had rope burn on their wrists. A few had fat lips, and a few others had black eyes. And was that dried blood in Johnny Boy's hair?

After he shoved the boy away, Peter began to make his way to his tent. Surly, Holly was waiting for him there. She had to be.

However, Peter didn't miss the silence that settled over camp at his back as he tore the flap of his tent aside and was met with an empty tent and empty bed. Holly was no where to be found, and the tear at the very back of the tent started to tell Peter just what had happened here.

He could feel the shadow spreading across his skin as white hot rage boiled low in his gut and erupted up this throat.

"Where is she?" he bellowed, whipping around to face the rest of camp. The boys who had come with him to Eastloche stared back at him, obviously confused, while the others wouldn't meet his eyes. "Someone better start talking," he hissed as he took a menacing step forward, "before I decide to feed you all to the crocodile."

"She isn't here, Peter," John spoke up, and all eyes turned to him in both surprise and thanks.

Peter ground his teeth together and gave John a strained smile. "I can see that, Johnny Boy," he ground out. "Mind telling me _where_ she is?"

As Peter stalked toward him like a predator cornering its prey, John felt the itch to run. Instead, he met Pan's gaze and stated, "I don't know."

Peter's brow knitted together. "You don't know?" John shook his head, his eyes flicking down. "You _don't know?"_ he repeated, his voice growing louder.

"By the time we got out of our bonds, they were long gone," John tried to say in his— in all of their— defense.

"They?" Peter asked with an arched eyebrow, although he had a good idea who John meant.

Silence stretched between them as Peter waited for his answer. John was finding it hard to hold Peter's gaze, the shadow turning his eyes into pools of pure hatred and evil that was sure to be unleashed on him and the rest of the Lost Boys if he didn't get his answers.

"I'm waiting, Johnny Boy," Peter hissed, taking a few more steps. "My patience is running thin."

"You know damn well who," John snapped.

"I want to hear you say it!"

"Hook!" the young Lost Boy that Peter had grabbed earlier shouted. It seemed that he couldn't take the pressure anymore. "It was Hook and his crew! They snuck up on us in the middle of the night and then they took Holly. We didn't even see them coming!"

The young boy was hysterical, tears filling his eyes as he rubbed at his red wrists. When Peter turned his gaze to the boy, he ducked his head and whimpered, but Peter wasn't interested in him. Not really. He was just surprised that the scared little boy had the gall to tell him what everyone else was far too afraid to say.

A cold wave of calm washed through Peter as he turned back to John. He studied the young prince, his head tilted in concentration as John kept his eyes glued to the ground.

"You knew."

Peter's words startled John, and he looked up with wide eyes. "What?"

"You knew they were coming," Peter stated, and while his words were calm, the threat beneath them was anything but.

"No!" John protested, fear squeezing his chest as Peter snarled.

"How have you been communicating with them?" Peter demanded, but John continued to insist that he had no idea what Peter was talking about.

This went on for a while, Peter demanding to know how John had been communicating with Hook while John continued to insist that he hadn't. And while John grew more desperate to prove his innocence, Peter grew more enraged.

"Tell me!" he screamed, spit flying as he stared John in the eye.

"I don't know!" John shouted back, and that's when John felt the air between them change. But by then, it was too late.

"Fine," Peter growled, "Then you're no use to me."

The pain that bloomed in John's abdomen sent a shock through him, but it was the crimson that spread across his shirt and around the blade of Peter's knife that made his heart sink. His eyes scrunched in pain as Peter twisted the blade sharply and ripped it out.

As John collapsed to his knees, his hands slick with his own blood as he tried to stop the bleeding, Peter wiped his knife clean on his trousers. "I'll be sure to tell your father you said hello." John looked up at him with wide eyes, and Peter smirked. "And I'll be sure to comfort your sister in every way I can when I bring her back."


	18. Chapter 18

I woke up to find a pair of bright blue eyes and a head of dark hair hovering above me, and I momentarily forgot where I was. All I knew was that the face above me wasn't Peter's.

I jolted up, but the face above me didn't move quickly enough and we ended up colliding.

"Bloody hell, love," Hook's voice filled my ears as I laid back, holding my forehead with a groan. He swore, and I peeked up to find him looking at his fingers, the tips pink with blood. Gingerly, he touched his mouth, and I realized that his gums were bleeding.

I sat up, slower this time, and sat cross legged across from Hook. The cabin was bathed in the golden glow of a lantern hanging near Hook's desk, the shadows rocking slightly with the movement of the ship, which told me it was either very late or way too early.

"What do you want?" I groaned as I rubbed my eyes, the ache in my head already beginning to subside.

Hook ran his tongue over his teeth and moved his jaw back and forth a moment before answering. "We're about to pass through the veil. I thought you should know that it's about to get bumpy."

"The veil?" I asked, but even before I was done asking, I understood. "Oh."

Hook nodded. "We caught quite the wind last night and we were able to ride it through the night. So, we're a little ahead of schedule."

Resignation flowed over me when I realized that it was too late for anyone to rescue me. Peter wouldn't have waited this long, despite his favor for dramatics, and once we passed through the protective veil that surrounded Starryview, it would be impossible for him to find me.

Hook studied me, gauging my reaction, but I wasn't about to give him one. Instead of pushing though, he gave me a small smile, one that seemed almost shy. Then, he was reaching out towards me, his fingers brushing my cheek before he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. For a moment, I was stunned, floored by his soft touch and the heat that rose in my cheeks at the feeling of his callouses on my skin.

But the moment passed and I leaned away.

He blinked, seemingly coming out of a dream, before he dropped his hand and looked away. We sat in silence for a few long, uncomfortable moments before he cleared his throat.

Hook rubbed the scruff along his jaw. "There are some people who are very excited to see you," he stated, still not looking at me.

My stomach dropped, and I felt my breath leave me. This was not a conversation I wanted to have, and yet here it was, hanging over my head by a thread. Any one name would send it crushing down on me, along with guilt and memories and far too much sadness.

I settled for a nod, hoping that Hook wouldn't push. I didn't have any fight left in me to snap his head off if he tried to talk about happy reunions and forgiveness and all that foolish nonsense. The fact that I was going to be trapped with him on that island was bad enough.

Three soft knocks drew Hook's attention to the door. The person on the other side didn't wait for him to answer though, and soon I was staring at the short, round shadow of a man with a bulbous nose and glasses that were too small for his face. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch up.

"Captain," Smee greeted before his eyes flicked to me. "Miss Holly," he said with a bow, and I _did_ smile at that, my chest feeling warm as I felt my heart swell for the man.

"What is it, Smee?" Hook asked.

"The veil is just ahead."

Hook nodded, and I stood. "Thank you, Smee," I said with a small smile. Both Smee and Hook looked at me, surprise evident on their faces. Smee recovered first, his whole face flushing red before he sputtered out a response, bowed, and left.

I could still feel Hook's eyes on me from where he sat on the bed, could feel him studying me, trying to figure out what I was thinking. I hardly glanced at him as I smoothed the wrinkles in my dress. "I don't hate them, Captain," I said.

Hook arched an eyebrow, a smile beginning to form on his lips. "Oh?"

"No," I said. Then, I met his eyes. "Just you."

Hook's smile fell away immediately, but I wasn't prepared for the anger— the confusion— that flared in his eyes, turning his eyes to blue fire. Instead of sticking around to hear all the words I'm sure he wanted to say, I turned on my heel and made my way towards the door.

"You told me you loved me once."

My gut clenched at his words, stopping me in my tracks. It sounded like an accusation.

"I remember," I said, digging my nails into the palms of my hands as I debated on whether or not I should turn to face him. Beyond the threshold of the door and beyond ship's bow, I could see the looming shadow that was Starryview, and it dawned on me that I had never seen Starryview from the ship before. The last time, it had been invisible to my unknowing eye.

"Do you?" he snapped, wrenching me from my thoughts. I heard him surge to his feet.

"Of course I do!" I snapped back, whipping around to face him.

"Because it seems to me that you've forgotten."

I swallowed around the unwanted knot that was beginning to tie itself in my throat. Of course I remembered telling him I loved him. Even after all that time with Peter and the Lost Boys, after all the bits of me that I had lost, those three words were ones I could never wash off my tongue.

I learned about the kind of boy Hook and been that night, the kind of boy Peter had made him into. And I had forgiven him for all of it. Because I loved him.

I sighed, running my hands through my snarled hair. "I haven't forgotten, but it doesn't matter anymore," I said, trying to convince him as well as myself. "It hasn't for a long time."

Hook closed the distance between us with slow, measured steps. His eyes never left mine as he stepped closer to me, so close that if my hand twitched, our fingers would brush. "How long?" he whispered as he caged me in with his hand and hook on either side my of my face. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as he leaned in close, smelling the same as he always had: of sea salt and rum and spice.

Hook must have sensed the effect his was having because he smirked, his eyes shining with glee as he cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip. "Humor me, love." He leaned in close, his lips a breath away from mine. "How long has it been since I stopped meaning anything to you?"

He was wrong to feel so cocky, so sure that I would melt at his affections. I had made that mistake before, and I had learned my lesson. Fury swelled in my body as I stood up straight and looked up into his eyes. Could he really not know?

Well, I would make sure to remind him.

"How long?" I asked, using the sweetest voice I could muster as I looked up at him through thick lashes.

His smile grew. "Aye, love. How long?"

"Since the day you handed me over to Pan on a silver platter," I hissed before shoving him away. His eyes grew wide, shocked as he stumbled backwards, but I was far from finished. As he regained his footing, I stepped up to him and shoved him again. "Since the day you told him to take me instead of you." Shove. "Since the day you failed to keep _every promise you ever made to me!"_ Shove. "You said—" shove, "—you would keep. Me. Safe!"

With my final shove, he stumbled into the wall, his hands held up in surrender as I stood there, my chest heaving and my anger coursing through my veins like fire.

And in the span of a heartbeat, that fire was extinguished, leaving me shaking as I fought to keep my bottom lip from quivering. "You promised," I croaked as my cheeks became wet with unwanted tears. I quickly wiped them away on the back of my hand and took a shuddering breath. I needed to pull myself together.

"Holly—" Hook started, but he was interrupted when the ship lurched, sending me stumbling to the cabin floor. Hook was able to stay standing, bracing himself against his desk as the ship lurched again. The lantern that had been hanging near Hook's desk fell from its nail, the glass shattering like a thousand tiny stars across the dark wood of the floor as Hook and I were cast into the dark. I heard Hook swear as the ship continued to jerk this way and that, but I didn't move in fear of slipping and landing on the shards of glass that littered the floor.

More tears fell, but I didn't wipe them away. I was safe to cry in the dark.

###

Peter had to hand it to the prince, he was quite the fighter.

"I could just put you out of your misery," Peter offered as he twirled his knife around, "but I kind of like watching you struggle."

John shivered violently before going into a painful round of coughing. The sound was wet and when a trail of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth, mixing with the thin sheen of sweat that covered his entire body, he groaned. His curls were plastered to his ghostly pale face, the bags under his eyes the same deep purple as a bruise.

His fingers and toes had gone numb hours ago, but he did his best to keep pressure on the wound on his abdomen. His filthy shirt was a blossom of red, the edges a rustic brown where the blood had dried. Despite the warm jungle air, he was freezing, and it was getting harder to stay awake.

It was the early hours of the morning, and the finger-like shadows that had been reaching for John throughout the night were beginning to disappear. Through the thick canopy above, blotches of violet began to bleed into the dark, navy night.

He kept his eyes on the sky, unable to meet the eyes of Peter or the Lost Boys that stared at him, waiting for him to finally die.

More coughs wracked his body, each jolt causing pain to stab through his abdomen as he tried to hold still. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, and he turned his head just enough to spit it onto the ground.

"You won't survive this," came Pan's voice. The bastard sounded amused.

"I know," John replied as he swallowed thickly around the blood. It was hard to talk. It took much effort, and even when he was trying his hardest, his words were slurred together like a drunk's.

Peter chuckled to himself as he stared down at the prince. Even on the edge of death, the boy was still defiant. He could have been a wonderful Lost Boy if he had just done what he was told and kept his head down.

"Well, Johnny Boy," Peter said as he stood and stretched, "it's been fun." Then, he turned to Benj, who was sitting on a stump near John. "Let me know when he finally croaks," he ordered. Benj nodded wordlessly.

"As for the rest of you," Peter turned to the other Lost Boys, "I suggest you get some sleep. We have a lot to do once the sun rises."

No one argued and soon it was only John and Benj.

John wasn't really sure how long he laid there with Benj sitting nearby. He wasn't sure how long they let the silence fill the gap between them.

"Benj," John finally whispered as he felt the pain in his abdomen begin to subside.

Benj was by his side then, kneeling as he looked down at him. John wanted to smile, but everything was suddenly so heavy. "What is it?" Benj asked, his eyes flicking to John's covered wound. "What's wrong?"

Benj and John weren't friends by any means, and of course there was that night of hide-and-seek where Benj had threatened Holly and distracted John long enough for Lester to knock him over the head with his club, but Benj wasn't like the other Lost Boys. He didn't follow Peter as blindly as the others, despite his many years with him. There was always a twinkle of skepticism in his eyes, and while Peter couldn't see it— or maybe he just ignored it— John noticed.

"I need you to do something for me," John said as he looked up at the boy before him.

Benj nodded. "Sure."

"I need you to look after Holly for me," John said, but it was hard to get the words out. His throat threatened to close and choke him as he tried to hold back tears. "If Pan finds her…" He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, but Benj nodded, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder in silent agreement.

"I will," Benj said with a weak smile.

"P-Promise me," John said, the world beginning to go dark around the edges. Thankfully, the pain had stopped, and his fear was quickly being replaced by the strong desire to let go.

Benj swallowed, and John could see the smallest tinge of sadness in the boy's eyes. "I promise," he said, squeezing the prince's shoulder, but John was already slipping away. His breathing was labored, each breath filled with wet sounds of blood as though he were drowning. He no longer kept pressure on the wound, and blood flowed freely around his hands, adding a fresh stain to his shirt.

When the prince finally closed his eyes, he let himself think of his sister, and he prayed that Pan would never find her.

Benj sat with the prince long after he had stopped breathing. It felt wrong to run to Pan right away because Benj knew that Pan would perceive it as a time to celebrate. So he sat in heavy silence, unable to tear his eyes away from the dead boy in front of him.

And he was completely unaware of the native girl with raven hair who sat just inside the shadows, curled up against one of the thick trees of the jungle. She cried silently at the sight before her, a hand covering her mouth to muffle her sobs.

John's death had been her fault. He hadn't known that they were coming like Pan had accused. No, _she_ had been the one to lead Hook and his men to the Lost Boy's camp. She hadn't thought that Pan would…

She curled tighter in on herself, resting her head on her knees as she cried. What had she done?

* * *

 **Author's Note: Woo! What a chapter huh? Thank you all for being so patient. Like I said, writer's block has been quite a nuisance, but I'm getting better! I feel like I'm getting my mojo back... Hopefully. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! :)**


	19. Chapter 19

When the ship finally settled, I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. Hook's crew began to cheer, congratulating each other on a job well done.

"Are you alright?" Hook asked from where he stood by his desk.

"Fine," I said as I ducked my head and quickly wiped away the tears that stained my cheeks.

Hook nodded. "We'll talk more later."

I pushed myself to my feet as he began to make his way towards the door. "I have no interest in talking about _anything_ with you," I snapped, but Hook was already out the door and shouting orders at his men as they prepared to dock.

I followed behind shortly after, immediately making my way to the very front of the ship, where I leaned against the wood and peered at the town of Starryview as it grew closer.

The wooden and stone buildings were all bathed in the pale light of the moon, their windows lit up with candles as the town's inhabitants began to wake.

A white sand beach shone with what looked like thousands of stars as dark water rushed up with the morning's high tide. A long dock protruded out into the sea like a hand reaching out for the Jolly Roger, welcoming all aboard home.

And out on the dock stood a single person: a stout woman with frizzy hair hidden underneath a faded bandana. It seemed odd paired with her night dress and slippers, but it was also like an extension of her. She held aloft a single lantern, casting her shadow along the dock as she watched the ship inch closer.

My gut jumped to my throat as recognition washed over me. I had hoped that I could avoid her until I was ready— if I was _ever_ ready— but it seemed that she wasn't about to make this reunion any easier.

My chest tightened, and I rubbed at the itch that began to burn behind my eyes.

 _Stubborn as always,_ came the thought, uninvited. I had to clear my throat to keep from laughing and then dissolving into a puddle of tears, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized that I was being ridiculous. My current situation wasn't permanent. Hook had given me up once. Who was to say he wouldn't do it again when he realized he gained nothing from having me? What would stop him from taking me back to Pan himself?

Something sharp twisted in my gut at the thought, and I felt a familiar sting of fear blossom in my chest that felt so much like the fear I felt that night all those months ago, but I pushed it away. I wanted to return to Peter. I wanted to return to the Lost Boy's camp. I belonged there.

Didn't I?

 _Yes,_ I reminded myself. _That's where I belong. It's where I_ must _belong._ So as I withdrew back into myself, I straightened my shoulders and stepped away from the bow. I tucked all my warring emotions deep inside and tried to convince myself that there was nothing to worry about, that there was no relief to be felt at being back within Starryview's safe veil.

After descending the steps to the deck, I took a seat on a crate whose wood didn't seem rotted by the sea spray and waited for the crew to drop the gangplank.

But try as I might, I couldn't ignore my churning stomach. When the gangplank was finally put in place, I curled my clammy hands into fists and took a deep breath in a weak attempt to calm my racing heart.

I watched the crew disappear down the gangplank one by one. They all chatted and smiled, carrying a bag of their few belongings over their shoulders as they made their way towards their home. The rough-and-tough pirates of Hook's crew looked like a group of men returning from a long day's work. They were softer somehow. Even Gresham, the single most terrible person I had ever had the displeasure of meeting, was smiling with the few black teeth he had left, his eyes shining as he patted a fellow crew member on the back as they walked by me without a glance.

"Ready, love?"

I swallowed my nerves and turned to Hook, my best mask of indifference in place. "If you think I'm setting foot off this ship, you're mad."

Hook barked a laugh. "And if you think I'm going to leave you to your own devices on my most prized possession and an open ocean to escape to, then _you're_ mad. Now, come on," he said holding out a hand to me. "You don't have to face her alone."

Surprise jolted through me as I met his knowing eyes. The amusement in his eyes ebbed away, replaced by a soft warmth that made me want to look away. But I couldn't. I just kept looking at him, waiting for him to say something else. It felt like there was something else.

"Why?" I finally asked when he didn't go on, my voice quiet.

Hook didn't retract his hand. His eyes didn't flash with annoyance. He simply kept looking at me, so many emotions flashing across his ocean-colored eyes as he studied me. "I left you on that island for a year, facing down Pan and the Lost Boys all on your own," he said. "I won't leave you to war with yourself while you heal. It's my fault anyway," he said, his voice wavering just enough to make my chest ache.

I dropped my eyes down to his upturned palm, unable to look at him as pain and guilt clouded his expression.

It _was_ his fault, but hearing it from his own lips was different than saying the words myself, different than accusing him as though he didn't know.

But he did know, and it haunted him.

It seemed that my hands had a mind of their own because before I knew it, I was reaching out and taking his hand. His palm was warm against mine, his many callouses rubbing against my skin in a way that was far too familiar, in a way that threatened to remind me of all the times I longed for those finger to touch me.

Hook pulled me to my feet and, for a moment, we stared at each other. Only mere inches separated us, and as he looked down at me through inky black hair, I saw his lips pull up in the corners.

I gently pulled my hand from his and watched as that smile faltered, but this time, I wasn't happy to see him struggling to understand me. I just ached.

"I can't trust you," I stated.

Hook nodded. "I know, but I intend to change that."

I nodded, unsure of what to say, before ducking my head and looking away. It must have been enough because he said nothing more before turning and making his way slowly across the deck, only looking back over his shoulder as if to make sure I was still coming.

My feet felt heavy as I stepped forward to follow him, and with each step that brought me closer to the gangplank, I felt my stomach sinking farther and farther.

One more step, and I would be able to see the woman waiting for me on the dock, and like the coward I was, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Her gasp made my eyes shoot open, and it wasn't until I felt Hook's hand on the small of my back and his breath at my ear that I realized that I had frozen at the top of the gangplank.

"It's alright, love," he assured me with a gentle push forward. I took a small step, and then another. Slowly, Hook and I made our way down to the dock together, until I was only a few feet from the woman holding the lantern.

Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she seemed as unsure about what to do as I was. Her eyes danced across my face as though she were looking for something, her lower lip trembling before she took in a long, quivering breath.

"You brought her back," she said, her eyes never leaving mine and I felt my own throat close, felt my hand twitch as I suddenly longed to reach out for her.

"Aye," came Hook's soft reply. He had stepped away as if to give us room. "I told you I would, Nora."

Nora sniffled and her hands began to shake before Hook gently took the lantern from her fingers. As soon as the brass left her fingers, she was rushing forward, her arms outstretched, and pulling me to her in a crushing hug.

She was shorter than I was— a whole head shorter— and the hug was awkward. My back strained and my knees protested as she clung to me, but it was nothing compared to the flood of warmth that washed over me as she cried. Hot tears stung in my eyes and my throat cinched shut as I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer.

How many nights had I longed for her presence in the Lost Boy's camp? How many days had I longed for her friendly face and her motherly protection?

We stood like that— me, curled around Nora like a weed and Nora telling me how much she missed me— for what felt like eternity, but I never wanted it to stop. It had been too long since I had been able to drop my guard. Nora meant me no harm. She never had, and her hug was just that. A hug. Nothing more, nothing less. She was just a woman who had taken me in and had lost me. And now, she was welcoming me back.

Whether or not she was aware of how different I was compared to the girl I used to be, I couldn't be sure. But in that moment, it didn't matter.

When we finally split apart, Nora took my wet face into her warm hands— unusually soft for a woman who worked as much as she did— and smiled up at me through misty eyes.

"Welcome home, my sweet girl," she said, choking on something that was between a sob and a laugh.

 _Home._ The word hit me like a wave. But it wasn't necessarily unwelcome.

I wanted to tell her thank you, to tell her that it meant so much after everything I had been through, but I couldn't. Instead, a fresh wave of sobs ripped through me. And before I could swallow them and wipe away the new onslaught of tears, Nora was wrapping me in another tight hug.

"It's alright, Holly," she shushed me as I shook, everything pouring out of me like a dam. "It's alright. You're going to be alright."


	20. Chapter 20

I could feel her watching me, could feel her eyes burning holes in my back as I slipped the dress from my shoulders. When I peeked over my shoulder, she busied herself with the basket of bathing supplies she had carried up to the springs.

"No need to be shy," Nora said without looking up as she pulled a bar of soap and a wash cloth from the basket. It was the first thing she'd said since our reunion at the dock and she suggested that we get me cleaned up. "It's nothing I've never seen before."

"I know," I said, feeling shy. And it wasn't because Nora was going to see me nude. No, it was because of what she'd see all over my skin.

The bumps. The smaller bruises that were just starting to fade. The scars.

While Nora was still busy with the contents of her basket, I slipped out of the dress and dashed over to the hot spring. Steam rose off the top of its dark surface, the light of the moon and the twinkling stars above reflecting in the water. I slipped in without much thought and hissed as the heat swallowed me.

The discomfort quickly slid away, leaving my bones feeling like liquid. I hadn't had a hot bath since leaving Starryview a year ago and— as I relaxed against the smooth stone that made up a makeshift bench at my back— I wondered how I had ever survived without it. Determined to enjoy every moment I could, I closed my eyes and focussed on the warm caress of the spring.

"Comfortable?" Nora asked, a smile in her voice. When I cracked my eyes open, I could see her face hovering above me, her eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky behind her.

"Very," I answered, my lips quirking up at the sides.

"Good. Now, sit up so I can wash your hair."

I quickly ducked my head beneath the water before doing as she said, and in no time, I was lost in the soft, rhythmic massage of Nora scrubbing soap into my hair.

"Thank you," I said after a while as she scratched her fingernails across my scalp in an attempt to rid it of every bit of dirt. We had been sitting in silence, and I had a feeling that Nora was waiting for me to speak. "You didn't have to do this, Nora."

"I know," she stated, her fingers never pausing. Then, she changed the subject. "Your hair has gotten so long."

"Really?" I asked, reaching up to feel my sudsy locks. Without a brush, my hair had mostly become one giant, knotted mess that hung around my face. But now, as Nora worked out the worst of it, I could feel it laying down past my shoulder blades. My brows shot up, and Nora chuckled.

Once Nora was finished, she rinsed her hands in the spring and then dunked a small pale into the water.

"Close your eyes," she warned a split second before dumping the bucket of warm water over my head. This repeated three more times before she seemed satisfied.

I was wiping the water from my eyes when Nora brushed my hair over my shoulder.

"Alright, dear, time to…" She stopped, and I tensed, suddenly very aware of what she must see. "Oh, Holly…" Her voice cracked, and I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

I whipped around and came face to face with a teary-eyed Nora, her face flushed pink as she met my eyes.

She pointed a finger at me. "Did _he_ do that to you?" she demanded, her voice coming out much harsher than I expected. For a moment, I was stunned, and no matter how much I fished the words I wanted to speak, nothing came. I stood there— emerged in warm spring water up to my shoulders, Nora's eyes accusing and angry— at a loss for words, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water.

"N-No," I finally spat out, my voice wavering. When Nora's face flushed a deeper shade of red and she looked like she was about to call me a liar— which I kind of was— I interrupted her. "No, Nora," I said, my voice suddenly steady as I shook my head. "Peter didn't do this…" I reached back and touched a scar between my shoulder blades. "My brother did."

 _Because Peter told him to,_ I added to myself, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying the words aloud.

Nora sat back on her heels and crossed her arms. "And the scars on your feet?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrows. "The one up the side of your leg? Did your brother give you those too?" Her voice was growing louder and more accusatory the more she spoke, and all I could do was stand there, my arms crossed over my chest as Starryview's early morning air tickled the back of my neck and brushed across my scars.

After several long moments of tense silence, Nora stood up. "I didn't think so," she murmured before making her way over to her basket and pulling out a throw and tossing it to the edge of the spring.

"There are rules," I said suddenly, surprising myself. Nora didn't turn around though. Instead, she began throwing everything except a brush into the basket with far too much force. "I broke a rule, and I had to deal with the consequences."

When she _still_ didn't answer me, I became angry. I surged forward and grabbed the throw before pushing myself out of the spring, the pleasantries of the spring and my hot bath quickly forgotten as the chilled air enveloped me and my skin erupted into a layer of gooseflesh.

"The rules kept us safe!" I shouted at her as I wrapped the throw around myself. "The rules kept us alive! _Peter_ kept us alive!"

I expected her to meet my anger with her own but instead, she turned to me with a stony expression and planted both hands on her hips. The only thing that gave me any indication that she was upset was the unshed tears in her eyes and the waver in her voice when she asked me, "And did he tell you those rules himself? Or did he wait for you to break one so he could punish you first?"

It was as if she had slapped me.

When I said nothing, she gave a curt nod. "And did every boy on that island that followed those rules survive?"

I thought of the young boy that Pan threw to the crocodile the day that Pan had punished Beck for touching me. I remembered my disgust when I asked Peter why he let the crocodile have the younger boy and all he could do was shrug and say, " _The croc wanted him."_

No rule had been broken. The boy had done nothing wrong to deserve the punishment he received and yet he was the one who paid the price.

I ducked my head, unable to meet Nora's eyes as my cheeks flushed hot and guilt burned in my gut.

I heard Nora sigh. "I'm not going to pretend that I understand what happened to you on that island, Holly dear. And there's not a chance in hell of me ever understanding why you would defend that demon of a boy…"

I clenched my jaw so tight that my teeth ached in protest, but I said nothing. Like she said, she would _never_ understand. None of them would.

"I just hope that one day you come to realize that the things he did to you— the things they _all_ did to you— is unforgivable."

Suddenly exhausted, I nodded once in understanding. I didn't agree with her, but if it ended the argument— at least for now— then that was fine by me.

"Come here," she said gently, and I looked up to find Nora holding her arms out wide. I hesitated a moment, worried about my throw falling, before I decided to hold onto it with one hand and hugged her with the other.

The hug lasted several moments, and when we finally stepped away from each other, I could feel all my irritation and anger had fallen away. I couldn't stay mad at her. And it would seem that she couldn't stay mad at me due the smile that lit up her whole face.

"Now," she said, squeezing my arms, "let's get your hair brushed and get you dressed. Then we can head down to the pub for dinner."

###

I would be eternally grateful to Nora for not putting me back in a dress, and as we strode down the cobblestone road, I felt a bit more comfortable in my own skin. She had given me black leggings and a dark green tunic as well as some knee high black leather boots. I had opted to leave my hair hanging free, my locks now light and soft now that all the dirt and grime had been washed away.

The sun still lingered behind the horizon, but the sky had begun to turn from black to charcoal to a deep blue laced with pink. A few clouds lay strung across the sky, but the air already promised a pleasant, warm day lay ahead.

The old splintered sign still hung over the pub's door, and it swung slightly in the breeze. We were just about to enter the tavern when I heard my name.

I turned around, the voice familiar, and yet one that I couldn't quite place.

"By the gods," the young man said, his blue eyes wide as he stared at me through blonde ringlets. "It _is_ you." His lips—surrounded by a blonde goatee— split into a wide grin.

My heart stumbled in my chest as I stared back in mirroring disbelief. "Reilly?"

"Yer a sight for sore eyes," he said, his voice cracking at the end despite his small smile. His eyes were misty with tears, and I was immediately reminded that this is the boy who kissed me goodbye before I stepped foot onto Hook's ship and sailed away, the boy who promised that there would be so much to catch up on when I returned from Fairedge.

Except that I never returned. And judging by his messy curls, thin face, tired eyes, and rumpled clothes, he never forgot.

His first step was tentative and unsure, but then I took the second, and then he was pulling me into a crushing hug, his arms winding around my waist as mine found their way around his neck. My nose crinkled up when I caught a whiff of sweat and stale ale, and the feeling of his ribs beneath his shirt told me that he wasn't eating, but it was still _Reilly_.

"I knew it was too dangerous t' take ye," he whispered into my hair as he clung to me. "I knew it wasn't safe."

"I'm here now," I whispered back, trying to pack as much conviction in my voice as I could.

 _Even though you shouldn't be,_ a voice in my head added, and I hugged Reilly tighter and tried hard to ignore the voice. But it sounded a lot like Peter, and it sounded angry, which meant that I _couldn't_ ignore it.

I stepped away from Reilly, but thankfully he didn't seem to realize that it was because I felt guilty being near him. He still gripped my forearms, unable to completely let me go, as if I would disappear at any moment. I peeked over at Nora, hoping to silently plead for some help without upsetting Reilly, but when I saw her wiping tears away with a corner of her apron, I felt myself deflate.

"Let's get something to eat," I told Reilly gently, turning back to him and giving him a small smile. He returned it, his eyes shining in a way that made me feel warm inside.

"Alright," he agreed, his voice sounding a bit gruff, like he was trying to hold back tears. He released my arms, and before I could think twice, I grabbed his hand and watched as his cheeks flushed pink.

A strange sense of contentment washed over me as Reilly and I looked at each other, and an even stronger sense of warmth when I turned to find Nora smiling at me. For a moment amongst the unease and upturn of my life, everything was as alright as it could be.

Until Hook and his crew came walking down the road, eager to ruin everything all over again. Just as they always did.


	21. Chapter 21

"Reilly lad!" Gresham called out as he sauntered down the cobblestone road. The scowl that appeared on Reilly's lips was more than enough to tell me that things were about to get ugly.

"Let's just go inside," I said quietly to Reilly, tugging on his hand.

"Good to see you out and about… and sober!" Gresham added with a dramatic gasp. He smacked a hand over his heart as if it had stopped, and I found myself wishing that it would.

I shot a glare at Gresham, but he just smirked. Then my eyes found Hook, whose eyes were glued to the space where Reilly's hand was wrapped in mine. His jaw flexed before his cerulean eyes met mine, jealousy written plainly across his face when his lips turned down in a frown.

"That's quite enough, Gresham," came Nora's stern voice, and Reilly's grip on my hand relaxed slightly. I squeezed his hand in reassurance, and he looked over at me with sad eyes. He cleared his throat before ducking his head again, ashamed. For what, I wasn't sure. Though I felt like I had a good idea.

Gresham snorted. "What? I think the royal pain-in-the-ass has a right to know that Lover Boy over here hasn't been sober since the day we returned without her. The poor bastard passes out in his own sick more nights than in his own bed."

"Enough!" Nora clipped, but Reilly had already let go of my hand and was lunging towards Gresham before I could stop him. His fingers wrapped around Gresham's neck, and he wasted no time squeezing as hard as he could. Gresham— though much larger than Reilly— couldn't pry his fingers away and began to gasp, his fingernails painting angry red lines down Reilly's arms as he struggled.

Each member of Hook's crew came to their shipmate's aide while Hook pried Reilly off of Gresham. And all the while, Nora stood back and shook her head— her lips turned down in a frown— while I stared on in shock.

"That's quite enough, lad," Hook growled as he shoved Reilly away, sending him stumbling.

When Reilly regained his balance, he went toe to toe with Hook, ignoring Gresham's raspy swearing and threats to beat in his skull while Porter and Langley and the rest of the crew kept him at a safe distance. Reilly's blue eyes blazed and his teeth were bared as though he wanted to rip Hook's throat out. And maybe he did.

"I told you not to take her," he shouted in Hook's face, his cheeks, neck, and ears flushing crimson as he did so. He stabbed a finger into Hook's chest, and Hook let him. "I told you it was too dangerous, and you did it anyway! And what did that get her?" he bellowed as he pointed a finger back at me.

Hook's intense gaze flicked to me, and my stomach fluttered in response, but it was short lived when Reilly seized him by the front of his coat and shook him, bringing Hook's attention back to him.

"Coward!" he raged, but Hook didn't budge. "You were a coward!"

"We've had this conversation before, lad," Hook said, his tone cold. "You're not saying anything new."

Reilly scowled before he released Hook with a shove, his shoulders heaving as he caught his breath. Most of the anger seemed to have boiled away, and I took the momentary break in the fighting to grab Reilly's hand again— squeezing tight— and pulling him away. I didn't speak. There was nothing I could possibly say.

As Nora shuffled us inside, Reilly was silent. He kept alternating between running a hand through his heavy, greased curls and biting at his nails which, I noticed, were painfully short.

"I'll get the two of you some breakfast," she said as we sank into two old wooden chairs at a rickety table. She shot a glance over her shoulder when Hook and his men began entering the tavern before shooting Reilly a look. "Try to stay out of trouble until then." When Reilly gave her a nod, she gave him a nod and then disappeared into the kitchen.

I was busy studying the dried blood around Reilly's fingernails when I heard him apologize softly. I looked up, my answer already at the tip of my tongue, but he held up his other hand to stop me. "I just…" He runs his hand through his hair again, pulling a little at the ends. "I've been so _angry_ for so long. I've hated him— _all_ of them— for what happened to you. And now you're here and I…"

His cheeks turn a bright pink and he ducks his head, unable to look at me. I hold my breath, my heart beating unusually fast in my chest as he struggles to find the words to say.

"You what?" I prod gently.

He peeked up at me through thick blonde lashes, his eyes suddenly full of a fire that made me pause. And then his hands were tangled in my hair and his lips were on mine, full and wet and desperate as our teeth clashed with the impact.

There was no mistaking the taste of ale and the smallest hint of tobacco on his lips and my chin burned from Reilly's stubble.

I broke the kiss as best I could, pulling away slightly so I could breathe, but Reilly's hold was solid. "Reilly," I gasped, putting my hands on his chest and pushing gently.

"I missed you," he whispered as he looked into my eyes. He gave me another kiss, and I made a noise of protest. "I missed you so much," he said before going in for another kiss. This time, I turned my head, but this didn't deter Reilly. He kissed my cheek and then my jaw before making his way down to the spot just below my ear.

I froze, my whole body going rigid as my mind instantly filled with thoughts of Peter as Reilly's lips slid across my skin.

"Reilly," I said again, my voice sharp as I pushed on his chest again. Still, he didn't stop. So I pushed harder.

And sent him tumbling to the floor.

The commotion in the tavern seemed to screech to a halt as all eyes turned our way. Everyone was silent as their eyes asked a variety of questions and their lips either turned up in a silent smirk or turned down in a confused frown.

Nora stood just outside the kitchen doorway, her eyebrows up in shock as she held two plates of hot food in her hands and the door swung slightly behind her.

As I looked around the pub, the horror that everyone had seen everything unfold began to fill my gut. And when my eyes met Hook's from across the room, I felt my stomach twist and my chest ache. He was looking at me with his brow furrowed and his blue eyes shining with a question I wasn't sure I could answer and hurt that I wasn't sure I could soothe. I looked away, unable to figure out why I felt so guilty, only to find Reilly staring up at me from the floor, his eyes wide with confusion. He, too, noticed everyone staring, and ducked his head as his neck heated up beneath his collar.

"I'm sorry," I murmured— more to myself than to Reilly— as I stood on shaky legs.

Reilly tried to scramble to his feet. "Holly—"

"I'm sorry," I repeated again, retreating to the door as I felt my face flush crimson. As I made my escape, I knocked into one of the barmaids who was carrying a tray full of drinks. She tumbled, and several pints of ale— no one seemed to mind what time of day it was— spilled onto the floor. She screamed at me, but I ignored her as I pushed open the door and stumbled onto the street.

I could hear Reilly behind me, calling out for me to stop even as the door swung closed behind me. I had to think fast and hide or he would catch up to me, and I wasn't sure I could face him after what had just transpired in front of everyone in the tavern.

To my left was the steady climb of the road that would eventually lead me to the springs. To my right was the beach, the sun peeking over the horizon and painting the sky in vibrant oranges and pinks. The Jolly Roger stood at attention, the dark mahogany wood shining as it rocked in the glistening water.

Without hesitation, I darted towards it. Once I was a few buildings down, I slipped into an alleyway and pressed my back to the stone while I tried to calm my racing heart and control my breathing.

I heard the door of the tavern burst open and smash against the building as Reilly ran out into the cobblestone street, and I waited a moment before carefully peeking around the corner.

"Holly!" Reilly shouted as he looked up and down the road. He shuffled his feet, unsure which way to go to try and look for me first. When I didn't answer, Reilly swore before running his hands through his hair and pulling slightly at the ends, causing them to stick out at weird angles. For a moment, I was worried he would turn my way, but he ended up stalking off in the opposite direction— back to his home, I assumed— with his hands shoved into his pockets.

I sighed in relief before leaning my head back against the rough stone of the building and then sinking to the ground and putting my head in my hands.

My chest ached and my stomach felt full with guilt. Guilt for kissing Reilly, for not hating it as much as I should have, for knowing that I _should_ hate it, for pushing him to the ground, for thinking of Peter, for thinking that I would rather be kissing him instead, for letting Reilly kiss me in front of Hook, from worrying about what Hook thought, for hurting Hook, for… everything.

It was all too much and it was all happening too fast.

I made a frustrated noise before pulling at my hair and then I drove a fist into the hard ground. My knuckles screamed in protest, but the release felt so _good._

It felt good to focus on something I could control.

So I did it again. And again. And again, until I couldn't feel my hand, and then I did it some more.

"Holly?" came Hook's voice from the mouth of the alleyway. When did he get there? How did I not hear him coming? But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I didn't know how he found me, and I didn't care. I wasn't going to stop.

When he seemed to figure that out, he stepped into the alley and crouched beside me and took hold of my wrist. "Easy there, love," he said, sounding a bit frightened as well as concerned.

I tried to rip my hand away, but his grip was like a vice. I growled in frustration and tried again, but he still didn't budge. The fury returned, and when I couldn't drive it out with my fist, it decided to build behind my eyes in the form of hot tears.

The sobs were uncontrollable. They ripped through my body and caused me to curl in on myself. I buried my face in my one free hand as I rested my head on my knees, turning my eyes away from Hook. I couldn't take the sadness that resided there. I couldn't stand the guilt that reflected back at me whenever I looked at him.

The pain in my hand started shortly after, and I curled my fingers into a tight fist, focussing on the pain.

"Holly—" Hook started with warning.

"Don't!" I snapped as I felt blood begin to spill down over my wrist.

"What's the matter?" he asked, and I squeezed my eyes shut as all the words pushed up the back of my throat and burned my tongue. "Talk to me, love," he prodded, his grip loosening on my wrist as he ran his thumb across the inside of my wrist.

This time, when I snatched my wrist away, he let it go. I turned on him so fast that his eyes went wide with surprise and he fell onto his rear.

"Stop it!" I screamed at him as I cradled my injured hand. "Stop trying to make everything okay! It's not okay!"

"What's not okay?" he asked patiently and he pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them. He didn't seem the least bit annoyed, which only fueled my anger.

"Nothing! None of this—" I waved my injured hand around— "is okay! _I'm_ not okay!" The tears were starting to fall faster now, leaving salty streaks down my cheeks before dripping onto my shirt. "I'm not the same person anymore, and I can't pretend that I am."

"No one is asking you to," Hook whispered, looking at me intently.

I barked a dry laugh, and Hook frowned. "Are you daft? _Everyone_ has been treating me like nothing's changed. They think that ignoring what happened will make it disappear. Like my entire world wasn't thrown into a whirlpool of madness. They don't understand. _None of you_ _understand!"_ I screamed at him, my throat scratching in protest before I dissolved into another round of sobs.

I'm not sure how long we both sat there together in that alleyway. It could have minutes. It could have been hours, but by the time I had dissolved into hiccups, the sun had risen and the air was warm. The sting in my hand had turned into an insistent throbbing, and the blood had started to cake and dry.

I didn't startle when I felt Hook take my hand. I didn't even look up.

"I'm going to cover this," he said as he carefully uncurled my fingers. I ground my teeth together as I felt some of the dried blood crack and fresh blood began to flow, but I didn't say anything. "Don't want any dirt getting into it and giving you a nasty infection."

I looked at him then, resting my cheek on my knees. "Nothing is the same. _I'm_ not the same," I said as he pulled a neatly folded— and hopefully clean— handkerchief from a pocket inside his leather coat.

He met my eyes for a moment before he turned his attention to his work and began to wrap the cloth around my bleeding knuckles. "I know," he replied before taking one end between his teeth and the other between his fingers and pulling the knot tight. I hissed, and he apologized.

"Then why do you all still want me?"

He stiffened as though I had offended him. I was wiping away a few stray tears when he took my chin between his fingers and made me look at him.

"We will _always_ want you, Holly," he said, his voice gruff and his words shaky. He took a deep, and his next words were anything but shaky. They were solid and unwavering. " _I_ will always want you. Even when you're like this." He brushed my cheek with his fingertips, and I felt all my breath leave my chest. My heart hammered away in my chest and I wondered how he could still have this effect on me, even briefly. How could it be so easy to forget when I looked into those eyes?

"You're the reason I'm like this," I said, my voice stone cold. I didn't recognize my own voice, but I knew that what I said was true.

Instead of hurt, though, Hook's eyes burned with blue fire. "I know that," he said, and there wasn't any excuses tied to the end. No placing blame where none existed. He was admitting his fault, just like he had on the Jolly Roger before helping me face Nora.

I swallowed, my mouth feeling dry as he stared at me with determination. I ducked my eyes.

"I know you can't trust me," he continued, his fingers prying my chin upwards. "I know that you're afraid and—"

"I'm not afraid," I protested.

"You are. You're afraid to trust us. You're afraid to trust me. You're afraid that I'll give you up again, that I'll hand you back over to Pan."

"That's what I want!" I snap, pushing his hand away, and his cheeks flushed red.

"Is it?" he snapped back, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hair. "Do you really want to go back to him? To those wretched boys? Tell me, love, how bad of a beating do you think he'll give you if you ever make it back there?"

I scoffed, but my stomach churned uncomfortably.

Hook barked a laugh, sounding on the verge of hysteric as he ran his fingers across the scruff of his jaw. "He'll beat you, love, make no mistake. He'll beat you because you should have never let me take you away in the first place." I looked away, digging my nails into my arms as I tried not to let the truth in his words worry me sick, but Hook kept on. "He would rather you have died that night fighting me off than have you back with me and my crew, and you know it! He'll use it as an excuse to hurt you!"

I stayed silent and met his gaze with a blank stare. Nothing that came to mind seemed fit to speak, and I didn't want him to be able to antagonize me anymore.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles of his neck straining as he curled his one hand into a fist. "Aren't you going to say _anything?"_ he demanded.

"No," was my quiet reply as I got to my feet. Hook lurched forward in an attempt to grab me, but I backed away with a hiss. "Leave me alone. I just. Want. To be left. Alone."

I turned on my heel and walked out onto the warm cobblestone of the road. A few curious gazes found me as I began to walk towards the beach, but I didn't pay them any attention. All I wanted was to be as far away from everyone— from Hook— as I possibly could be, and the beach seemed like the perfect place. I could follow the curve of the beach until Starryview was out of sight and then I could rest.

All I needed was a little rest.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I know it's been a while since I posted a chapter, and I must apologize. My life has been a little crazy, and this story kind of got pushed to the back burner while I tried to figure everything out. Work has been insane and I recently applied to go back to school, so I'm trying to figure out my schedule and money and everything else that goes with it. :P

I haven't given up on this story, but updates won't probably be as often. I also have to admit that this story is kind of hard to write. Holly has obviously been through something traumatic and it has caused a lot of damage. I want to write her character in a way that is accurate and believable, and sometimes that's difficult. I run through everything she says, does, and thinks several times in several different ways to make it believable, but I am only human, and sometimes that takes a while, if at all. So, please be patient with me as I try to figure out this tangled mess that is the story. You've all been wonderful so far! :)

Thank you for not giving up on me! ~ Miss Faery


	22. Chapter 22

There was blood. Lots of it, soaking the sand of the beach.

It was caked in her hair and streaming down her face. Her arm was obviously broken, hanging limply at her side as he continued his ruthless assault. One eye was swollen shut, and she was desperately trying to limp away, blood dropping off her split bottom lip.

"Stop it!" I screamed at him, but he struck her hard across the face, sending her sprawling in the sand. She had long since stopped screaming, but her whimpers could still be heard as she tried to move out of his reach. "Peter, please! Stop it!"

"You _bitch,"_ he hissed at her as he kicked her in the ribs. She choked for air, clawing at the sand to get away, but all it did was fall through her fingers. She wouldn't get away. He would kill her before that happened. "You stupid, stupid bitch! You planned this!"

"No!" I screamed at him, feeling desperate panic rise in my chest as he seized the girl by the front of her tunic. "Leave her alone!" I tried to step forward, tried to run to the girl and to stop him, but the sand swallowed me up to my ankles and held me in place. I watched, completely useless, as the girl shook her head weakly.

"N-No," she croaked, her voice familiar.

He shook her hard. "Liar!" he spat at her, his face flushing red with rage. But the girl continued to deny what she had done, and that made his anger worse.

"Peter!" I shouted at him, my throat raw. "Peter, stop this! Stop it!"

But he was already dragging the girl by the hair down to the water. She kicked and flailed as much as she could with her injuries, and I clawed at the sand at my feet, trying to dig myself out in order to get to her. We both failed and then Peter was holding her head under the water, his arms flexing as he watched with wild eyes. All the while, I watched in horror as her thrashing weakened and the bubbles of her breath disappeared.

Once he was satisfied, Peter left, disappearing down the beach until he was out of sight, leaving her body to float in the sea. Eventually, I was able to move my feet again, and I wasted no time running to her.

I dragged her from the water with the help of the moving waves, and turned her over, wiping the thick brown hair from her face.

Only to find myself looking back up at me, eyes wide with fear and lips stained blue from lack of air. I wanted to vomit, could feel the sick rising, burning in my throat, but I swallowed it.

When the ticking started, I froze. I scanned the dark water, trying to gauge where the monster was, but it was impossible in the dark. It didn't matter. I had to get away from the water.

But when I tried to move, the sand swallowed my hands and feet again, locking me in place. I pulled and thrashed, effectively tearing the muscles in my shoulders as I tried desperately to get away, but to no avail. The ticking became louder, and I knew that at any moment that the monster that was the crocodile would barrel out of the water and clamp it's jaws around me.

It took the corpse first, stopping close enough that I could reach out and touch it's yellow and green scales if my hands were free. The whole time it shook the corpse like a rag-doll, it's yellow eye was trained on me.

And then I heard a voice. A voice that sounded so much like a hiss that it was hard to understand.

 _Delicious,_ it said, and somehow I knew that it was the crocodile. _Just like he promised you would be._

Peter. He meant Peter.

But Peter promised that he wouldn't feed me to the crocodile as long as I was good. And I _had_ been good.

 _"He would rather you have died that night fighting me off than have you back with me and my crew,"_ came's Hook disembodied voice, and I could have sworn I saw the crocodile smile, my limp and broken corpse still hanging from its jaws. I watched in horror as it swallowed the corpse and hissed, its body tensing. The last thing I saw was pale yellow of the crocodile's inner jaw before it snapped its jaws shut around me.

###

My eyes shot open, hot tears blurring the starry sky above me. A cold sweat had erupted over my body, and the breeze that crawled over my skin made me shiver. A hard lump sat in my throat, and I had to sit up to swallow it. I took a deep, shaking breath and pulled my knees to my chest.

It had been a dream. A nightmare. I was not dead, floating in the sea or hanging from the crocodile's jaws. Peter wasn't here, and I was alone. At least I thought I was.

"Bad dream?"

Startled, I swore, one hand flying to my chest to cover my rapidly-beating heart. "What are _you_ doing here?" I asked, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

"Couldn't sleep," was his simple reply. He sat in the sand a few feet away, his legs stretched out before him, his hook drawing lazy figure eights in the sand. I arched an eyebrow, totally unconvinced that that was the whole truth, and when he saw that I didn't believe him, he added, "And you were gone a while. I wanted to make sure you were alright." At that, the corners of his mouth turned up in a soft smile.

I wiped the sand from my hands and arms, taking my attention off of Hook. "I needed rest."

"You know that you have a bed for that, right?"

"You mean back at the inn with you and your crew?" I clipped as I ran my fingers through the sand. Unlike the air around me, it was warm.

To my surprise, Hook had no reply. No sarcastic retort to make us fight. Instead, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Your nightmare."

I shook my head. "It was nothing," I lied, feeling an uneasiness as the images from the dream came flooding back to the front of my mind. Most nightmares would have begun to fade by now, their images blurring before disappearing completely like morning fog once the sun comes up. This one was different. I had a feeling it wouldn't be going away for a while.

In the quiet that followed, I hoped that he would let it go.

"You were screaming, Holly." His voice was quiet and full of worry.

"So?" I snapped. I ground my teeth together until my jaw ached. I didn't want to talk about it, so why could't he just leave it alone?

"It was _him_ wasn't it?" Hook pushed, his eyes trained on me. "It was Pan."

Having had enough, I tried to get to my feet, but Hook was faster. Before I could stand, his hand wrapped around my wrist and he was pulling me back down into the sand with him.

Before I could protest, he had already let go of my wrist, putting his hand and hook up in surrender.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Just… don't leave. I just wanted to talk, that's all. I wanted to make sure…" he reached out for me, but I leaned away, heat rising in my cheeks. His jaw tensed, and pain flashed in his cerulean eyes, but he dropped his hand. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright," he finished, sounding defeated.

A cold breeze rushed up the shore then, causing me to shiver as goosebumps rose up along my skin. Hook shrugged off his leather jacket and held it out to me, and when I hesitated in taking it, he rolled his eyes. "It's just a jacket, love. If you're going to insist on sitting out here all night, you might want to —"

I snatched the coat away before he could finish his rant. "There," I said as I slipped my arms into the long sleeves. "Happy?"

Hook nodded once, his eyes looking me over before turning his eyes out to the sea. We sat in silence, Hook watching the waves come up the beach before retreating, and me snuggling deeper into the warmth of his jacket. My eyes were getting heavy again, but I wasn't ready to fall back asleep. the nightmares would be waiting, and I wasn't sure that I could handle another vivid dream.

The words started flowing before I could think better of them. I told Hook about the dream, about Pan hurting the girl on the beach, how she was bloody and broken as he dragged her into the water, and how I couldn't reach her until it was too late.

"It was me," I said, studying the way the moonlight glistened across the water's surface. "I mean, it wasn't _me,_ but it was…" I trailed off, unsure how to explain it all. "I don't know why I'm telling you this," I admitted, tucking my hair behind my ear. I tried to summon the anger I had felt earlier, tried to hate him as we sat at arm's length from each other, but I was too tired.

Hook, who hadn't turned his attention away from the ocean the entire time I had shared my story, finally looked at me. "Because I'm the only other person on this island that would understand it."

"Tink would," I offered, not as an argument, just as a statement.

Hook nodded. "True, but I'm the one sitting here right now."

"True," I echoed, and he smiled. Despite myself, I couldn't help but smile back. It was a strange feeling, smiling at him, not being so angry with him, but it couldn't last. It wasn't that simple.

His face fell when I stopped smiling suddenly, and I had a feeling that he knew what I was thinking.

"I'm tired," I said suddenly, quickly getting to my feet.

"I'll walk you back," he said, standing too.

"I know where I'm going," I clipped, walking past him.

"Thank goodness," I heard him retort, but I just rolled my eyes and kept walking. He caught up in a few easy strides, but to my surprise, he kept quiet as we walked. In fact, he didn't say a word the whole way back to Starryview. It was only after we had made it back to the inn and were standing outside my room that he said anything.

I was handing back his jacket when he caught me off guard by asking,"How's the hand?". It took me a moment to realize he was talking about.

"Wha— oh. It's fine." I held it up for him to see.

"Mind if I take a look? Just to make sure there's no infection. Before I could answer, he took my hand in his and gently unwrapped the cloth that he had tied around it. He held it up to look at and took a step closer to me. My breath caught at his proximity, and I wondered if he could hear my pounding heart.

"Look's just fine," he whispered, looking up at me with a smile. I nodded dumbly. When he leaned in and brushed his lips against my knuckles, I couldn't help but gasp slightly.

When I finally found control of my head again, I pulled my hand away and took a step back into my room.

Hook chuckled, looking pleased with himself. "Goodnight, love. Sleep well."

Oh how I wanted to slap the smile off his face.


	23. Chapter 23

The persistent knocking on my door came far too early. The sun still wasn't up, and it probably wouldn't be for another hour. So, as I walked to the door with a blanket still around my shoulders and cold, bare feet, I intended to give whoever it was a piece of my mind.

And of course, when I pulled the door back, there stood Hook, his fist still up in mid-knock, a ridiculous grin on his face.

"Oh good," he chirped, his grin growing. "You're awake."

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" I grumbled, rubbing sleep from my eyes

Hook didn't miss a beat. "Time for breakfast."

I didn't answer. Instead, I tried to shut the door, but he put his foot out and stopped me. "Have breakfast with me, love," he said as he pushed the door back open. His eyes were bright with hope, and I wondered where he got the idea that I wanted to have breakfast with the likes of _him._

I sighed and combed my fingers through my hair before pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. "Look, just because we were… civil last night —"

Hook scoffed. "Civil? I'd say we were pretty friendly —"

"Doesn't mean that we're friends," I finished.

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest and arching one thick eyebrow. "We could be," he said with a grin. "Besides, I was _sure_ that you would want to avoid the awkward run-in with Reilly. If you eat now, you might get out of there before he shows up."

He had a point, but I wasn't about to let him win so easily. "Even so, why would I have breakfast with _you?"_ I challenged.

Hook's eyes lit up, and I wondered if our banter was giving him the wrong idea. Even if it was, I had to admit that it felt normal. Natural. Playful banter with Peter was always one bad line away from turning dangerous, but with Hook, it felt like there was no danger, no underlying threat or invisible line that he was waiting for me to cross.

"Because while you can obviously resist Reilly, I know that there's no way you can resist _me._ " He shot me a wink, and I rolled my eyes before shutting the door in his face. I could hear him chuckling on the other side. "Is that a yes then?"

I was silent for a moment, hoping that I was making him sweat. "Give me minute to get dressed," I replied, feeling a bit flustered, although I couldn't really explain why.

"Need any help?" came his flirtatious response.

"Don't push it," I warned, feeling my stomach do a somersault and my face flush hot. His only response was another chuckle, and when I was sure he wasn't going to say anything more, I began to change. I slipped into clean trousers and a clean tunic before running a brush through my hair and splashing some water on my face from the basin.

When I opened the door, I found Hook leaning against his door. His eyes scanned over me, and he smiled, friendly and warm. "Hungry?" he asked as he pushed off the wall.

My lips twitched, giving him the hint of a smile. "Starving."

###

"You weren't lying," I said to Hook as we entered the pub. The place was completely deserted despite the delicious smells wafting out from the kitchen and the warm fire in the hearth.

"It's about the only time anyone can eat here in peace," he agreed as he pulled out a chair for me. Just as we got comfortable, the kitchen door swung open and out waddled Nora. Her head was down and she seemed busy wiping her hands on her apron.

"What'll you be having, Thomas?" she asked as she looked up. When she spotted me, confusion flashed across her face for a moment before she smiled brightly, the crows feet in the corners of her eyes crinkling up. "Holly dear! Good morning!"

"Good morning, Nora," I replied, suddenly feeling shy about sitting next to Hook. Thankfully, Nora didn't seem to notice my unease, and before I could think too much about it, Hook had ordered us both breakfast and Nora was hustling back to the kitchen, shouting at Dane, the cook, to get a move on.

I half expected Hook to be talkative and flirtatious, but I was pleasantly surprised when he remained silent. Every once in a while, our eyes would meet, and he'd smile at me, but he never said a word. After our food arrived, we ate in silence. All that could be heard was the crackling fire, the clank of silverware, and Nora and Dane's occasional muffled spat in the kitchen. Eventually, other citizens of Starryview began to make their way to the pub, and the tables began to fill with those who were ready for a hot meal.

With the arrival of more mouths to feed came the arrival of the bar maids, each one in a too-tight dress and painted ruby lips in a pout.

Having finished my breakfast, I nodded to Hook and stood up, but he caught my hand. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" he asked, and he sounded genuinely concerned. But before I could free myself and slip out of the pub, I heard her voice, and it made me ground my teeth together.

"No need to keep her around, Thomas," came her overly-sweet voice. "I'm here now."

As Marie leaned against our table, she made sure her back was to me, but I didn't miss the way she batted her long lashes at Hook, taking his hooked hand into hers and running her fingers over the silver seductively. She flicked her long, dark ringlets over her shoulder, and that's when her eyes caught mine. "You can leave now," she said sweetly, a smile gracing her lips, but I had a feeling it was more of a demand than a suggestion.

I pulled my hand out of Hook's grasp and smiled back despite the bubbling irritation in my gut. Then I turned my attention to Hook. His hook was no longer in Marie's grasp, and he seemed irritated. I could even swear he was leaning away from her a bit…

"Thank you for breakfast," I said as I tried to ignore Marie's huff of annoyance. "I think I'll go for a walk."

"I'll come with you," he replied, making a move to stand.

But I held up my hand to stop him. "No," I said, a little too forcefully, and he froze, his brows furrowing in question.

"N-no," I repeated, shocked at the force of my first reaction. "Stay. Finish your breakfast. Enjoy the company."

Marie looked over her shoulder again, a smug smirk on her face that I wished more than anything that I could wipe off. "He will."

It felt strange to feel so put off by Marie, but to see her sitting so close to Hook, to watch her lean down so he could see down her dress, to watch her lips split into a smile that oozed want… It made me want to drag her outside by the hair and… I'm not sure what.

"You can leave now," Marie retorted, snide.

I ground my teeth together to keep myself from giving her a snarky reply in return. Then, I smiled, trying my very best to be friendly, but it felt forced, my cheeks stretching uncomfortably as Marie glared back at me. When I turned my terrible smile on Hook, it faltered and fell away completely.

His blue eyes were so _focussed,_ searching mine for some sort of understanding. His lips turned down slightly in a confused frown.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to run, to bolt, to get out of there as quickly as I could. Everything felt strange, foreign, and yet familiar all at the same time. I knew _why_ those things felt familiar, but I didn't _want_ to feel them.

 _"You belong to me,"_ Peter's voice rose in my mind, and my resolve formed like ice around my heart.

I belonged to Pan. Marie could have Hook. They deserved each other.

I was half way across the now-crowded pub when two things happened. First, Hook called out to me, immediately causing everyone to turn their eyes on us and to make my heart leap just a little. Second, the door to the pub opened and who stood in the doorway made me pause.

"Tink?"

But she was already making her way towards me, her eyes clouded with a guilty determination and misty tears that made my stomach sink. She looked immaculate as always, her hair falling down around her waist in gold curls. Her cream-colored dress swished around her ankles as she maneuvered between the confused patrons and the tables that were far too close together.

"I need to speak with you," she said as she wrapped her fingers around my wrist. She wouldn't meet my eyes.

"A-alright," I agreed as she began to pull me away.

"Tinkerbelle, what's going on?" came Hook's voice at my back, his voice as concerned as I felt, but Tink didn't pause.

"I need to speak to Holly," she replied in the same monotonous tone.

She lead me out of the pub and out onto the cobblestone street, but she didn't stop there. When she tried to pull me up the street, I pulled my hand from her grasp. "What's going on?" I asked, unwilling to go another step until I knew.

Tink's intense gaze met mine. "Not here."

"Yes here," I argued, taking a step back away from her when she tried to reach for me again. A hand settled into the small of my back, and I looked over to find Hook standing beside me. I opened my mouth to tell him to go back inside, to go back to Marie, but his gaze made me pause.

"I just want to make sure everything's alright," he assured me, and I felt his hand fall away. Then, he turned his attention to Tink. "What the bloody hell is going on?" he demanded a bit harshly.

Tinkerbelle squared her shoulders, her eyes flashing dangerously as she met Hook's eyes. "This doesn't concern you," she retorted. She didn't wait for a reply before she turned her attention back to me. Her eyes softened and her voice was pleading when she said, "Holly, please, I don't want to discuss this here. It would be best—"

"Just tell me, Tink. Please."

Her shoulders sagged in defeat at my words, and she cast her eyes downward. Her words were hardly a whisper. "It's John."

My stomach twisted into a painful knot. "John?"

She nodded, still unable to look at me.

"What about John?" I asked, trying to keep calm despite the panic that was beginning to brew in my chest.

"This isn't the place, Holly—"

"Just tell me!" I screamed at her. Hook put a comforting hand on my shoulder but I shrugged him off.

She was silent for several long moments, and as she clenched and unclenched her fists, her eyes still on the cobblestone street, I knew that what she was about to say was about to destroy me.

"Tinkberbelle," Hook urged, his voice soft.

Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes cloudy again with tears. She swallowed once. Twice.

"John's gone, Holly."

It was like she had knocked the wind out of me. "Gone?" I asked, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

She cleared her throat and shuffled her feet. I had never seen Tink so unsure, so uncomfortable in her own skin. "Dead," she clarified even though she didn't have to, and I felt my world lurch. "He's dead. Pan… He—"

"No," I croaked and shook my head. "No, he wouldn't—"

"But he did!" Tink screamed. It seemed it was her turn to get defensive.

Hook spoke up then. "You're sure?"

Tink nodded once, but she didn't elaborate.

"How?" he asked. "How are you sure?"

She answered Hook, but her eyes were locked on mine. "Tiger Lily told me."

"He wouldn't do that," I argued, ignoring the shock and disbelief that passed over Hook's face. The ache in my chest began to turn into an insistent throbbing refusing to be ignored. It was as though my chest was being cracked open. "He wouldn't do that to me!"

Hook's voice was in my ear, honey-sweet and gentle, but it ground against every nerve. "Holly, love—"

I whirled on Hook so fast that he took a step back away from me. "He wouldn't do that to me!" I repeated, the hysteria beginning to bubble over. "He wouldn't…"

But no matter how many times I said, I wasn't quite sure.

The tears came before I had a chance to stop them, spilling down my cheeks while my throat closed around sobs that threatened to choke me.

Someone scoffed in disgust, and when Tink, Hook, and I turned to see who it was, there stood Marie in the doorway of the pub, her arms folded across her chest as she looked down her nose at me.

"Please," she said with a roll of her eyes, "he was just a Lost Boy, and the fewer of those lost brats there are, the better."

White hot rage blossomed in my chest, and everything tinged red. My heart hammered wildly in my chest as I lunged for Marie. I would show her just what a little lost brat could do.


	24. Chapter 24

Unfortunately, Marie saw me coming, and what was supposed to be me raking my nails down her face turned into me raking my nails angrily down her chest as she tried to take a step back. She shrieked in pain as angry red lines blossomed across her chest and she was distracted long enough for me to wrap my fingers around her pretty pale neck.

"Holly!" Hook and Tink shouted at my back, but their voices sounded muddled, as if they were screaming at me through water. "Holly, stop!"

Marie was screaming too, hysterical as she tried to pry my hands off of her, but I quickly shut her up with the tightening of my fingertips around her windpipe. Her eyes grew wide, and I could see the fear in her eyes. She thought she was going to die.

And she was right.

I pulled her away from the door, ignoring the few wide-eyed looks and whispered murmurs that were beginning to erupt in the tavern. There would be a crowd soon, but I didn't care.

Marie's entire face was turning bright red, her attempts to breathe futile as I kept my hold. When she fell to her knees, I followed her, knocking her over so she was on her back. Then I straddled her, avoiding her flailing legs as I pushed down hard. The strangled noises that escaped her made my heart pound.

When Hook began to try and pull me off, I fought as hard as I could. I threw my head back and connected with his nose, but he kept fighting too. Marie's lips were beginning to turn blue, and she was having a hard time keeping her eyes focussed. It was almost done. If he would just give me another moment…

"Holly!" Tink was pleading as she knelt down next to me. "Holly, stop it!" She pried at my hands, but I wouldn't budge. I could see the fear on her face. Her wide, honey eyes were flashing from me to Marie and to Hook.

There were other voices too, and more faces. Some I recognized. Others I did not, but I knew that they were all from the tavern, come out to see what the commotion was about.

Marie wasn't struggling as hard now, and I could see the light starting to leaving her eyes. I wondered if that's what John's eyes looked like…

My grip loosened. Not much, but it was enough for Hook to wrap his arms around my middle and yank me off of Marie. She cough and sputtered, taking in as much air as her chest would allow. Hook dragged me back a safe distance and when he was sure I wasn't going to go after Marie again, went to her side.

"You're alright, love," I heard him say, despite the growing murmurs of the growing crowd. He helped her to sit up, but the moment her eyes found me, she was scooting away.

"Keep her away from me!" she demanded, her voice scratchy and raw. She heaved another breath. "Keep that savage away from me!"

Many of the those in the crowd murmured and nodded in agreement, and I felt my anger begin to return. What had happened just now between Marie and I had been brought on by her insensitive words. Her cruelty towards my brother, someone she didn't even _know,_ had caused this. She deserved it. And if you asked me, it was the least of what she deserved.

However, judging from the glares and fearful looks I was getting, I was in the minority.

"Come on," Tink urged, suddenly at my side. I looked at her, confused, but she just pulled on my elbow. She turned me away from Marie, Hook, and the crowd. "Let's get out of here before things get too out of hand."

"What is _wrong_ with you?" one of the barmaids spoke up.

 _Too late._

"You could have killed her!" shouted another as the other barmaids swarmed Marie and started to fuss about her like bees around their queen.

 _That was the idea,_ I thought, but I swallowed the words before they could escape and get me into more trouble.

The barmaid's words seemed to be stirring up the crowd, and others began to shout at me, demanding that something be done. All the while, I stood frozen, unable to move until Tink yanked my arm hard enough to pull the muscle from bone and began to drag me away. Once my feet started working, we began to run, leaving the angry crowd and a red-faced Marie behind us. The bruises were already starting to form around her neck.

We ran through town and up the hill towards the springs, but instead of going left towards the warm baths we turned right, and we didn't stop until were got to the clearing and Tink's well.

"Are you out of your mind?" Tink demanded, and I rolled my eyes.

"Can I just have a minute?" I asked as I tried to catch my breath. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and I could feel the exhaustion beginning to set in.

"No! I don't think you deserve a minute! I think you need to tell me what in the bloody hell you were thinking!" Her jaw was set, and her eyes were so focussed on me that I had to look away. Her cheeks tinged pink, and her nostrils were flared as she waited for my answer.

I pointed back the way we came. "You heard what she said."

"So you strangle her?" Tink asked incredulously with the raise of one blonde eyebrow.

"She deserved it," I growled, feeling my defenses going back up.

"Hardly," she clipped, and felt my own nostrils flare as I took in a breath. "There are many things Marie deserves," Tink went on before I could jump in, "but being strangled in the street isn't one of them. It would only prove her point."

"And what point is that?" I scream at her, the tips of my fingers starting to tingle and go numb as heat ran up my neck and into my cheeks. My heart was slamming against my ribs, and I didn't know whether I wanted to scream or cry.

"That lost children are all the same and the world is better off without them."

I looked down at the ground, my eyes beginning to sting. "John didn't deserve to die."

"No," Tink agreed, her voice softer now. "No he didn't."

I curled my fists tight and could feel my nails digging half-moons into my palms. "I don't understand why Peter would…" I trailed off, unable to anymore. My eyes clouded with tears and a few dropped into the dirt below me.

I hardly heard her move before she put her hands on either side of my face and pulled my eyes upward. Her honey eyes were sad and a bit distant, her mouth turned down slightly in the corners. Her brows knit together like she was thinking. "Peter thought that John was the reason that Hook and his crew found you. He thought he was communicating with them."

"But he wasn't!" I protested, and Tink nodded.

"I know that, but Peter doesn't. That's why he did what he did. In his eyes, John was a traitor that cost him a great loss that needed to be dealt with." She wiped the tears away as they fell. They were flowing more freely now, and the ache in my chest felt like it was splitting me open.

"He was my brother," I sobbed, clenching my fists to my chest. "We always followed the rules! We never…" I couldn't catch my breath, and my poor pounding heart felt like it was going to burst.

Tink slowly guided me to the ground, and I curled up on myself and screamed, screamed until my throat was raw.

"I hate him! I hate him!"

She wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders and leaned her head against mine. "I know, Holly. I know. Shhhh."

"H-He killed my brother," I blubbered, tangling my hands in my hair and pulling slightly.

The sound of footfalls and snapping twigs made Tink tense, and I couldn't help but wonder if the people of Starryview were on their way to get me, to punish me for what I had done to Marie. Hook and told me once that the little town decided all together what happened to criminals, and with all of Starryview having witnessed what I had done and the bruises around her neck that were sure to appear, there was no way I could be found innocent.

However, when I looked up through tear-filled eyes, the only person I saw standing at the tree line was Hook. He was trying to catch his breath, his face pink from running and sweat glistening at his collarbone. Despite his exhaustion though, his eyes were bright and alive as he looked at me. I could see him absorbing the sight in front him: Tink and I on the forest floor, her arm wrapped around me. Me, curled up on myself, my hair a mess from pulling and my face swollen from crying.

"He killed my brother," I told him, choking on the words at the end. I don't know why I said it. He already knew. The tears were flowing again as I covered my hands with my face. "He killed my brother."

Before I knew it, he was scooping me up into his arms, placing me on his lap as he sat down on the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck and sobbed into his leather coat.

"I hate him!" I sobbed as he hushed me, pressing soft kisses into my hair.

"I know, love. I know."

I'm not sure how long we sat there, the three of us. It could have been hours or only a few minutes. Eventually, I cried all the the tears that I could, until all that was left was anger, but even my anger was no match for the exhaustion that my grief had brought.

Hook never let go of me, and I became hypnotized by the feeling of his fingers combing through my hair and the steady beat of his heart through the soft cotton of his shirt. And, all the while, Tink sat beside us without saying a word.

"We have to do something," I whispered as my eyes began to droop shut.

Hook pressed another kiss into my hair. "Rest, love. Just rest."

###

I awoke in Hook's quarters on the Jolly Roger, tucked into the many blankets and quilts and surrounded by the smell of wood, sea salt, and cinnamon. The sun was high in the sky, filtering in down through the windows in columns sprinkled with dust. My eyes stung and my mouth was dry, as if I had swallowed sand.

There was shouting come from the other side of the door, and as I sat up with heavy limbs, I recognized Tink and Hook's voices.

"For hell's sake, Tink, let her mourn!" came Hook's voice.

"She is mourning!" Tink retaliated, her voice hot. "She will mourn his death for the rest of her life because of him, just as your mourn Tiger Lily—"

Hook hissed, "She isn't part of this."

"We're all part of this!" she spat, her words pure venom. "Or have you so easily forgotten?"

My chest tightened and ached, and I clenched my fists into the sheets before swinging my legs to the side of the bed. My boots hit the wooden floor — Hook must have decided they weren't worth taking off — and I stood on wobbly legs. Slowly, I made my way to the door and reached for the door. I needed to stop them before they tore each other to shreds.

"She deserves time _now_ to mourn," Hook pushed, but Tink was adamant.

"She doesn't have time to mourn now," Tink insisted, and I felt my hand freeze on the handle. "He will not stop with John. Not now. He was headed to Mystasia the night John was murdered. He may be there now. She must act. _We_ must act." When Hook didn't immediately reply, I wondered if Tink had won. I pressed my ear to the door, waiting.

Finally, in a soft voice that I could barely hear through the wood of the door, I heard him speak. "There's nothing to be done."

Tink made a wordless, frustrated noise, and I could imagine her hands flying into her hair as she stared wildly at Hook. "You coward!" she shrieked. "You would continue to hide here like a codfish than fight back? After everything he's done to us? To _her?_ "

Hook growled. "We are safe here."

Tink scoffed. "Safe? You call this safe?" Hook began to say something, but Tink cut him off. "This is the farthest thing from _safe_. The only reason you're _safe_ here—" she kept spitting the word at him— "is because _I_ make it so. If it weren't for me and my protection spell, Pan would have found you a long time ago!"

I slowly turned the handle and opened the door an inch. Just an inch. Just enough to watch, to listen.

They stood a few feet apart, both their faces flushed with anger. Tink's chest heaved with deep, hot breaths while Hook stood still, every part of his body locked and rigid.

Hook peered down his nose at Tink. "And you'd take that away, not just from me, but from everyone on this island, for what?"

Tink's eyes glistened and she stood a little straighter, not backing down from Hook's towering height. "For my freedom. For theirs," she motioned to the shore behind Hook. "For hers," she said with a flick of her hand towards Hook's room. Tink pushed on, her voice a little softer, her shoulders falling a bit. "I'm tired, Thomas. So tired. I've stayed in order to protect Starryview and those who reside here, but I do not wish to spend the rest of eternity here while Pan and the Lost Boys inflict terror." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "This was not the Ever After I pictured for myself when Pan ripped off my wings. I'm tired of being in between, not alive, nor really gone. I'm ready to be gone."

My heart broke for Tink as I watched her wipe at her eyes. Small tears slipped down her cheeks as she continued still. "It's torture to be in a place as pretty as this and not feel anything. I can't feel the warmth of the sun or the tickle of the breeze." She choked on a sob. "I can't feel the dirt and stones beneath my feet or the sand in my palms. I am cold, Thomas," she said, and it sounded like an accusation. "I'm always cold!"

Hook's hand had balled into a fist, and his eyes were cast downward, unable to look at Tink while she fell apart. After a moment, he reached for her, hesitant, but she smacked his hand away. His hand returned to his side and he did not reach for her again.

"Should Holly choose to fight back," Tink said after a few moments, her voice back to being hard and determined, "I will fight with her."

"It would be a hopeless fight," Hook replied, his voice cold.

"At least she would be brave enough to try," Tink hissed back at him before pushing past him and making her way to the long plank that would lead her down to the dock.

As she passed, Hook's hand darted out and wrapped around her upper arm.

"I won't let you do this," he said to her.

"It's not your choice to make, Thomas. It's Holly's."

"I will not let her!" Hook said, his voice louder this time.

"Should she choose to fight, she will not need your blessing to do so," Tink clipped, and Hook's jaw clenched. Then, she pulled herself out of his grasp and walked away. This time, Hook let her go.

Carefully, as not to alert Hook that I was awake, I closed the door and took a step back. Then another. Then another, until I could take a seat on the bed. I put my head in my hands and took a deep breath, hoping it would help declutter my thoughts. It didn't, however, and I found myself pressing the heel of my palms into my eyes until I could see explosions of color in the blackness behind my eyelids.

Pan and the Lost Boys were on their way to Mystasia, if they weren't there already. Would Peter kill my father too? Would he kill everyone? My thoughts drifted back to a specific nightmare that I had had long ago: Empty castle halls, Peter with my father's crown upon his head, a pile of burning bodies.

I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I stayed here in Starryview while Peter and the Lost Boys terrorized my kingdom, but was it really my kingdom anymore? Did I deserve it?

I could not sit idly by and do nothing, but I did not know where to begin. Thankfully, Tink sounded like she did.

 _Find Tink,_ I told myself as I got to my feet, feeling the fear settle into my bones. _Find Tink. Then go from there._


	25. Chapter 25

A while later, I peeked out the door again. Hook was no where in sight. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shut the door behind me and began to make my way across the deck.

"Holly?"

I froze, cursing under my breath. When I turned around, I found Hook at the ship's helm, looking down at me with worry as he leaned against the railing above.

"Yes?" I asked.

His eyes flicked over my face a moment before he asked, "How are you feeling?"

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear before replying. "Fine."

"You're sure?"

I nodded. We stared at each other for several awkward moments before I shuffled uncomfortably and looked down at my boots.

"You're sure you're alright?" he asked again, and I looked up to find him looking down at me still, his thick brows furrowed as he studied me.

 _As alright as I can be after finding out Pan murdered my brother,_ I thought, staring back at him, but instead I asked, "Where's Tink?"

Hook's shoulders stiffened and he stood, his soft demeanor hardening slightly. His hand traced over the rough wood, back and forth as he tried to mask his irritation and worry at my unanswered question. "She went for a walk," he said, looking away, unable to meet my eyes. "She needed to take some time to… collect her thoughts."

Well, at least he wasn't a _complete_ liar.

"Why?" I asked, feigning innocence. As far as I could tell, he didn't know about my eavesdropping earlier. If he had, he surly would have confronted me about it by now.

Hook scratched the scruff under his chin as he watched a point somewhere off the boat. "We had a… disagreement." He gave a weak smile. He stepped back from the railing then and began to make his way to the steps that would lead him down to the deck with me.

I arched an eyebrow as I watched him come down the steps, his boots heavy on the worn wood. "About?" I shouldn't push, I knew that, but I needed to see if he was going to tell me the truth, or if he was going to try to cover it up somehow. I could feel anger bubbling low in my gut, waiting for Hook to prod the embers underneath with his half-truths and his unwillingness to be honest with me.

He came to stand in front of me, so close that I could see the details of his vest. I looked up into his cerulean eyes as he peered down at me, his mouth turned down slightly at the corners as he seemed to look for some unspoken answer of mine.

"It was nothing," he assured me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek.

"It didn't _sound_ like nothing," I said before I could think too much about it.

Realization that I may have heard everything that had transpired during their argument dawned on his face and his hand fell away from my cheek. "Holly—"

"Why won't you fight?" I asked him quietly, and I couldn't help the hurt that leaked into my voice. He looked down at the small space between us, unable to meet my gaze. "This could all be over," I implored. "We could—"

"No!" Hook snapped, and I startled. "I am not going to argue with you about this." Then, he turned on his heel and began to make his way to his quarters.

I balled my hands into fists. "I want to fight!" I shouted at his back.

When he whirled back to face me, I had to force myself to keep my ground as he stomped back towards me, closing the gap between us. He looked completely deranged, his eyes wild with blue fire and his teeth barred in a snarl as he spit, "You're not going, dammit! You're staying right here! The only way off this island is on _my_ ship, and I'll be damned if I'm the one responsible for delivering you to that demon a second time. I _will not_ lose you again, Holly, do you understand?"

Tears had begun to well up in his eyes as he asked me that question, and his voice wavered on the point of breaking. As I stared up at him in shock, I watched as his lower lip began to quiver and he pulled it between his teeth to stop it before rubbing his hand roughly over his face. He took a shuddering breath to ground himself before he looked back at me, his eyes pleading, making my heart pound.

I swallowed the knot that had formed in my own throat. "I-I understand," I said, my voice quiet.

Relief flashed across his face.

" _But_ ," I pushed on as I fiddled nervously with the bottom hem of my tunic, refusing to lose my nerve and back down, "if you cared about me half as much as you claim, you would help me end this once and for all."

Hook stuck his tongue in his cheek and took a deep, measured breath. Either he was getting ready to explode or he was getting ready to agree with me.

He put up his hand and hook in surrender and took a step back from me, hurt shining in his eyes. "Then maybe I don't care about you as much as I thought."

Unexpectedly, his words felt like a punch to the gut. They took the air from my lungs, leaving me breathless. I watched helplessly as Hook turned away from me and made his way to his quarters. I felt like I couldn't move again until he had shut the door behind him.

He hadn't even bothered to look back at me before he closed the door.

A sudden rush of rage flared up hot in my gut and gushed hot into my mouth. I strode over to the door and slammed my fists onto the wood. "This is all your fault!" I screamed, giving the door another hard pound with my fist. "You should have killed him when you had the chance!"

 _Punch._

"You should have killed him after he ripped off Tink's wings!"

 _Punch._

"You should have killed him after he took your hand!"

 _Punch._

"You should have killed him after Tiger Lily!"

The door finally flew open just as I was about to slam another fist into his door. My hand was throbbing, but the pain only made me more angry.

Hook stared out at me, his teeth bared in a snarl. "What would you have me do?" he demanded in a hiss. "Slit his throat while he slept?" He took a menacing step towards me, but I stood my ground. "Stab him through the chest during one of our games?" His voice was beginning to rise, and we now stood toe to toe. "You think he's that easy to kill?" he yelled in my face, spit flying and hitting my cheeks, nose, and lips. "Have you forgotten all the power that croc has given him?"

"Then we kill the croc first!" I screamed back. I tried to keep the fear from sneaking into my voice. My stomach churned at the thought of that horrific beast standing in the way of defeating Pan, but I guess there was a part of me that always knew that the crocodile would have to be dealt with as well. If it wasn't, who was to say he wouldn't find another blood-thirsty boy to promise immortality and power to.

Hook rolled his eyes.

"What?" I demanded, clenching my fists.

"You make it all sound so easy, Holly, but you have no idea who you're dealing with."

I struck him hard across the face and he swore. He brought up his hand to cradle the side of his face that I had slapped, a bright red hand mark already starting to form on his skin.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he asked, incredulous.

I took a shuddering breath to keep myself from screaming at him. Yelling would do no good. It hadn't done any good this entire conversation. I needed to be calm. I wanted him to hear every word.

"I spent an entire year on that island," I began, my words cold yet calm. My words didn't waver, and I could tell that I had finally caught his attention. "I had to play all of Pan's sick games without knowing any of the the damned rules. I was practically their play thing!" My voice was starting to rise, so I took a deep breath. "Peter he… he made John hold me down so he could slice my feet to ribbons once. I didn't know I wasn't allowed to step foot on the beach." Hook swallowed, uncomfortable. "I-I watched him feed two innocent boys to the crocodile." It was hard to say. The memories of that day came rushing to the front of my mind, and my eyes blurred with tears. "The second one— one of the youngest boys— he… he begged for his mother. All he wanted…" I blinked and the tears fell away, and I could see then that Hook's eyes were blurry too. "All he wanted was his mother. He was so scared. And Peter… He just…" I tried to swallow around the rock in my throat, but I choked instead. My chest ached from my heart pounding so hard.

Hook didn't move.

"He just _smiled,"_ I said as if I still couldn't believe it. "He didn't even hesitate, and then he demanded we all go on about our business like nothing happened, like we didn't just watch him throw two boys to that animal!" Anger was beginning to bubble again. "You say I don't know who we're dealing with, but it's because of _you_ that I do! So, don't you _dare_ tell me that I don't have any idea, because I _do!"_

After I was finished, I turned and stormed away. Beyond angry and hurt, I just needed to be away from him.

"I'm sorry!" he shouted at my back just as I reached the wooden ramp.

I whirled on him. "Stop saying you're sorry. All you ever say is that you're sorry, but you don't mean it."

"Of course I mean it," he argued, his brows furrowing.

"No, you don't. If you were sorry, _really_ sorry, you'd change."

I walked down the wooden ramp to the dock and ignored him as he called out to me. I was done listening to him. I had other business to attend to, and if he wasn't going to help, then I didn't need him.

I only needed Tink.

And Hook's crew.


End file.
